Lost and Found
by Kakashifan727
Summary: Jack Skellington/OC The King of All Hallows’ Eve simply wishes to leave it all, having grown tired of his job. He wishes for someone to help him, to understand his torment. Little does he know he’ll have his wish; though not in the way he’d originally hoped! A human woman is forced into an arranged marriage, with a man who seems to be kind but is actually quite cruel. Jack, bein
1. A Dream

_What was in front of him was unlike anything he had ever seen before. White stretched out as far as the eye could see, small things falling from ground and making his bones chill upon contact. Just what he had stumbled onto?..._

 _"Oh, I'm telling you, Sally, this idea is my best yet!"_

 _He heard himself say, his voice oddly echoing in the darkness. The small doll simply frowned at him, placing a hand gently on his shoulder, her wide eyes calming to him and yet unsettling at the same time. He could sense something there, unease perhaps?_

 _"Oh, Jack...I have a bad feeling about this. I'm worried about you, is all."_

 _She said to him, moving her tiny hand upon his own, a worried look on her face. He simply smiled at her, sockets narrowed as he beheld the fabric and patterns she held..._

 _He fell, and kept falling, unable to move. He could smell the smoke, the acrid tinge of burning wood and cloth. Her words came back to him in a rush—too fast for his mind to comprehend them fully, though regret washed over him as he watched his creation burn and crumble to pieces. All too soon the ground appeared below him, it's oddly white surface looking to swallow him up. The last thing he felt was his body slamming into the ground, as a panicked bark sounded somewhere above him..._

A ghoulish howl escaped him, his bones shaking in an icy terror that he had never experienced before. If he was able to sweat, he most certainly would have, staring curiously at his disheveled bedsheets. It had been quite a long time since he had had that particular dream; he had hoped it would have gone away. Looking towards his left, relief washed over him as he saw the sleeping form of his canine companion, the ghostly dog snoring away contentedly. At least his best friend was safe; it was simply a dream, nothing more. Jack was unsure of what he would do if anything happened to Zero. The dog had been the one constant in his undeath, keeping him level headed and grounded. He had no one else to confide in really, no one to share his sorrows with. Still, the dream was unsettling to the lanky skeleton. He was not sure what it meant, if it had any meaning at all, only that it made him uneasy.

 _I admit I've had dreams like this before, but none quite this horrendously vivid!_

His heart ached, remembering the figure in his dream. Her kind words and comforting touch were still fresh in his mind, disturbing him greatly as he tried to relax from his startling awakening. If only she was real; and not a vision of his lonely heart. He groaned, covering his face with his long fingers and sighing deeply. Sadly, she did not exist; the rag doll simply a figment of his imagination. How he _envied_ the self in his dream! Well, aside from the whole being shot out of the sky thing. That version of him seemed to have everything he lacked at the moment. Happiness, a sense of purpose and fulfillment, and a dearest friend who cared about him for his true self, not wanting to flatter him or suck up to him because of his title. If only he had such luck…

But, he reminded himself, it was simply not to be. He was the presiding spirit of All Hallows' Eve, after all, charged with overseeing the Holiday and everything it entailed. He had no time to make friends or pursue romance, busy with plans year after year, day in and day out as he was. And he was getting tired of it; the same thing every year, with little to no variation, always the same sights and scares. It wore at him, ground him down to his core. He wasn't sure how long he could last at this farce; forcing his feelings of discomfort inside himself as to not alarm his citizens.

Speaking of time, turning his head toward the rising sun outside his window, he had better get going, before the well intentioned Mayor began his unending rapport at his door.

With a little effort, he sleepily swung his long limbs over his bed and onto the ground, settling into his slippers and walking towards his closet almost as if in a daze. And he was tired, his nightmare waking him up much more earlier than usual, not to mention his lack of sleep from his scattered thoughts last night. Not that he could go back to sleep if he wanted to, slightly worried about the dream he had. It wasn't the first time he had had such an odd nightmare; but it was the first time it felt so vivid and real. It was as if he had almost smashed into the ground himself, the heat from the burning wood of the sleigh still poignant in his mind. Was it simply a dream, or something more? A premonition of sorts? He wasn't sure, and was too tired to really consider it, rummaging through his closet to find a fresh outfit. It only took him a minute to don his usual pinstripe suit, bow tie firmly in place as he began to walk around his room. He crouched downward, being careful so as not to wake his still sleeping friend, warmth filling his bones as he beheld the snoring mess of blankets and ghost dog.

"Ah, good morning Zero. Hopefully you slept well at least. Well, duty calls, you know the drill...I'll see you later."

If the ghost dog made any indication he heard his master, he didn't show it, curled up in his bed as he was. Jack smiled, gently scratching at the top of the dog's head, feeling the smooth cloth rustle underneath his touch. Understanding he could procrastinate no longer, he stopped petting the sleeping dog, heading down the long spiral staircase that lead to the main part of his home…

"Yes, I understand your concern…"

Jack responded, eyeing the short figure near him with fluttering sockets. It wasn't anything that he didn't already know, being the King of Halloween and all, but if it made the panicked man beside him calm down at least a little, he would play along. So he did his best to pay attention, nodding along and pointing out flaws in the Mayor's plans or suggestions, yet with less enthusiasm than he usually did. If the stout man noticed, he certainly didn't show it, wrapped up in his plans as he was.

It was September, and the preparations for the holiday season were already well underway. Which meant more work for poor Jack, more meetings with the easily frazzled Mayor, and more revising of plans that didn't need to be revised, at least in his opinion. Yet he did his best to keep calm with his shorter companion; the man simply wanted what was best for the town, as did Jack. Though he certainly didn't feel it at the moment. Thankfully—after what seemed like hours to the tired skeleton—the meeting was over, much to Jack's relief. He quickly bade the Mayor a good night, before the man could remember something else with which to bug him, and slipped out into the center of town, carefully taking the steps one at time.

A sharp cry was all the warning he had before he was overcome, hands and claws grabbing at him, wanting a piece of their esteemed ruler. He mentally groaned, though he did his best to seem cordial as he waved away their inquisitive touches and questions. The overzealous monsters swarmed around him, poking and prodding at him, annoying him slightly. He was simply not in the mood to deal with any admirers tonight. Not like they really loved _him_ , anyway. They simply fell in love with the illusion their fanciful minds created. More pretenders. They didn't notice him, not really, only seeing what they wanted to of their King. They didn't understand his loneliness, his pain; and how could they!? They were so oblivious to everything around them, only seeing what they wanted to see...How part of him _envied_ them, their carefree natures and obliviousness, able to focus on whatever they set their minds to without thought for the greater scheme of things.

"I'm sorry, ladies and gents, but I really must get going. Please, do be careful on your way home. It's quite dangerous at night."

He said, extricating himself from the crowd as best he was able. Which was somewhat easy, thanks to his tall stature and thin limbs, allowing him to slip into the shadows with ease. He quickly scuttled away, leaving the crowd far behind him as he ducked into a hopefully abandoned alley. To his luck, it was empty, save for the familiar figures of the town's local band. And they would never call attention to him, thankfully. A fact he was very much glad for at this moment.

"Have a horrible night, gentlemen…"

He offered, slipping a couple coins into the accordion players tin before sauntering off. He didn't quite catch what they were saying, lost in his thoughts as he was, wanting to find a place he could spend alone. So he began to retreat towards a place that no one else dared to ever go; the Spiral Hill. Possibly because it was across the graveyard, which roamed with specters and ghosts at night, and was quite dangerous even to the dead. Not many willingly entered the graveyard, and it was this that Jack was counting on for some peace and quiet.

There was something about the way the moon rose over the crest of that hill, illuminating the darkness of the trees that caused something in him to stir. It was when he felt at his most productive, his tower sometimes too cramped and crowded with his inventions and ideas to get a clear picture of things. He laid down on the grass, admiring the way the night sky stretched out before him, stars twinkling as if they were tiny lights of their own. He cried out into the night, his voice soft yet stern as he lamented his situation.

"Oh, how I wish I could be spirited away from here...All the responsibilities, all the lies, faces I must wear. I can stand it no more! Please, just whisk me away! To somewhere I won't be burdened by these expectations. Where no one here can ever find me, no matter how hard they try. Maybe then I can find something to mend my breaking, undead heart!"

He tried his best to keep calm then, feeling his chest ache horribly at the moment. It did him no good however, and he felt tears begin to form at the edge of his sockets, the tiny droplets cascading down his round skull and falling onto the ground. He did not cry out loudly in his grief; lest anyone find him so badly troubled out here. Though the thought occurred to him numerous times as he felt tears stream down his face. He simply wept quietly, long limbs curled into himself as he shook with sobs. This went on for some time, how long he did not know, until the pressure in his chest began to lighten up, sockets finally unable to shed any more tears even though he knew he was not yet done shedding them all.

Maybe a brisk walk would help my mood...He reasoned, finally standing up from his position and dusting some dirt off of his jacket. Smoothing off his suit, he began the trek across the long hill, heading into the forest proper. If the graveyard was off limits, then this place was certainly dangerous. Even he didn't venture here often, having no real need to, aside from maybe when he took a stroll to calm his frazzled mind and body. The quiet atmosphere was soothing, the sound of leaves rustling against trees and wind whistling.

He was a tad chilly though, hugging his long limbs around himself to ward off the cold. Was it always this cold? He wasn't sure...Possibly. He had already long since passed the grove of circular trees, the ones that stood tall and proud in the center of the forest. Truth be told, he hadn't paid too much attention to them, mind clouded as it was. For if he had, he would have stumbled upon the most peculiar sight...

As it was however, he simply kept walking, glad for the first rays of sunlight that began to peek their ways through the large copse of tree branches. Yet the sun seemed less radiant than usual as it rose up into the orange sky. And something about the sky itself seemed off to him as well. Maybe it was due to his exhaustion and lack of sleep, but the trees certainly seemed less full and thinner than before, their branches no longer looking as crooked or gnarled into the twisted shapes he was used to. The air seemed heavier, and less crisp as it flowed through his nostrils, even though he had no real need to breathe. The grass beneath his feet seemed less tall, less vibrant than he was used to, and soon gave way to a dirt path. This startled him; because as far as he knew all the roads in town were made of cobblestone, aside from the graveyard and forest. The dirt itself too felt much heavier and more mud like than usual, sticking to his shoes with a horrible slush every time he pulled his legs upwards.

Just where was he? Had he gotten lost in his traipse through the forest? It certainly wouldn't be the first time he had done so, lost in his mind as he was. Yet, this felt different, much different than those times. Something in him began to stir, bubbling up in his chest as he continued waking forward, noticing an odd mist beginning to rise up from the ground. It seemed to become colder then, his footsteps muted as he walked onward still, until he came upon something that made his heart nearly leap out of his chest.

"What is this…?"


	2. Simply Not To Be

Pushing her frames away from the bridge of her nose, she sighed, looking at the papers at her desk almost longingly. She knew she had to resume studying however, though she thought herself knowledgeable enough on the material already. She wished she could get back to her own work, and ignore these pointless studies, but her family would be quite angry with her. It was a decent drawing—showing the trees and other fauna of the nearby forest in the mists of dawn—if she dared say so. Maybe she could work on it for a few moments; none would be the wiser. But no, she did not want to make her parents more disappointed in her than they were already. Even though they never spoke it, she could tell; in the way they addressed her, looked at her. Like she was something to be pitied.

They were good enough folk, and she loved them with all her heart. They simply didn't understand. Even with her sight issues—and very limited skill set because of her disability—she wanted to do something other than do chores or take care of children. Not that she could even do that right—probably one of the many reasons why no one had begun to seriously court her until now. She was old enough already, the twenty two year old quite past the usual marrying age for young women. Some of the villagers even began to worry if she was in the process of becoming a spinster.

As if to interrupt her thoughts, a rapport sounded on her bedroom door, followed by a voice she had known since childhood.

"It is late dearest, but may we come in? Your father and I wish to discuss things with you."

"Of course, Mother…"

She already knew why they had come into her room. It was for one reason only. To discuss the new suitor that had come into her life. As they shuffled into the room, she made sure to hide any evidence that she had not been studying up on her manners. It wouldn't do for a lady who was possibly set to marry someone of high rank to have the signs of a commoner. It was with a resigned sigh that she asked them, fingers tapping against her lap as she did so.

"Must I meet with Lord Keogh? I admit I am feeling a tad under the weather lately…"

"Oh dearest, it might simply be the changing of the seasons. It is that time of year again, when spirits begin to roam the land once more, as death retakes it's grip on our world."

Her mother said, her eyes seeming to scan around the room as if checking for things that were out of place. Feeling a chill down her spine, the young woman simply nodded; it wouldn't do for her to fuss about it now. Their minds were set. Maybe she could at least try to persuade them?

"I suppose so...Still, I am unsure of his intentions. Must he be the one I marry? Has there been no other suitors you fancy?"

She begged, hoping maybe things had changed at least in the slightest. Her mother simply shook her head, her eyes hard set as she stared at her daughter.

"No, my love. He was the only one to respond to our paltry invitation. We are quite glad he is even considering it. He has already sent a letter to us foretelling his arrival. It shall be two days hence."

"Please, my child. If he has seen you fit to become his betrothed, then it is the best we can ask for. It's rare that one of his lineage would look fondly upon us. It would be well for you to consider it, at the very least."

Her father commented, his hard set brows narrowing as he put his hands behind his back. Well, so much for convincing them...she thought.

"All right. I shall do so...Now, may I be left alone, so that I may think on things?"

"Of course. It will take time, and I know you are not too fond of him, but give the lad a chance. You might find some good in him yet."

Her mother said, placing a hand on her shoulder that was quickly withdrawn after a few moments. She saw no warmth in her mother's gaze, only the hard set eyes of someone who knew what they were doing was the right thing.

"I...I'll try. Good night Mother, Father."

With that parting, the two left her room almost as quickly as they had entered it, though she could still feel their somewhat cold stares lingering on her person. Putting a hand to her face, she sighed, frowning, displeased with the news she had been given.

"I don't want to…"

She mutters, her words thankfully drowned by the closing of her door. If her parents heard her, well, they certainly wouldn't be happy. This suitor had enraptured her parents to be sure; they would not stop telling her how amazing he was, how great he would be for her. Had she not known better, or before she began to see beneath the veneer of kindness he showed, she probably would have agreed with their judgement. Now, however, she understood what to expect from him.

He was polite enough, his manners adequate for what a man of his station was. Yet, she found him trying to pester her when she simply needed a moment alone. She soon found ways to avoid him when he came to visit, or at least did her best to. He still hounded after her however, like a lovesick puppy.

He often interrupted her while she was drawing, which initially she did not mind—as he simply had questions about her art. That was before she could learn to detect the scathing sarcasm beneath his kind words and questions; his biting wit mocking her ability and calling it 'decent, for one who has so little sight as it is.'

She simply did not want a thing to do with the man. Sadly, he had her parents wrapped around his grubby fingers. As much as she tried to protest or tell them about the darker sides of her suitor, they simply would not listen to her. And so she could only wait, heart heavy with sadness and grief. All too soon his arrival was imminent, like a drumroll in her chest that left her anxious, a drawn carriage that seemed out of place in their quaint village soon arriving at their doorstep.

She followed him to the place he had specified the day before, confused and nervous about what he meant by wanting to speak with her privately. She wasn't sure if he would try anything too untoward, but his attitude towards her so far made her uneasy. He simply asked her to walk with him, which she was fine enough with. She doubted he'd try anything; he cared about his public image at least enough to not make a scene. So she accepted, somewhat hesitantly, and followed him. It wasn't until he brought up the topic of their relationship when she began to feel uneasy, almost cornering her.

"I simply don't understand why...Surely there must be something about me that you fancy?"

She stood rooted to the spot, fear and nervousness making her unable to speak. She didn't want to anger him, since her parents were quite fond of the man, yet she could not find anything striking about him that caught her eye.

"I...I'm sorry. I don't believe I f-feel the same."

She attempted to respond as best she could, turning her face away from him. Her suitor only scoffed, a frown on his features as he walked closer to her.

"What would a simple village girl like you know!? You haven't seen all I have to offer you; truly, once you have, your love for me will blossom!"

Oh, how she doubted that claim! She did her best to hide her disgust, lest he see it clearly on her face.

"...Is that all you wished to speak about, my Lord? I must be going—"

A hand grabbed her wrist as she turned to leave, nails nearly digging into her flesh, offering her no chance at escape. The look in his eyes was unlike anything she had seen from him thus far. Pupils dilated and tiny against wide white irises he looked as if a man possessed, her heart beating rapidly in her chest as she regarded him, fear causing her to blurt out what was on her mind.

"You don't understand the position you are in. You cannot refuse me! Your parents have already accepted me, why won't you?!"

"Because...I can see you for what you truly are. A monster masquerading as a man!"

She let out a yelp of surprise as he pulled her forcibly towards him, the same manic look still on his face, contorting his features horribly.

"Tch. This is why women should not be allowed to learn! Too many unneeded ideas floating around in your skull. How unbecoming. Once you are my wife, you simply won't need such things! Now, come! It is getting late and we must be off…"

Unable to fight against his vice like grip, she trembled slightly as she felt his hand slip into hers as he pulled her along. It was warm, his fingers interlaced with hers, but it might as well have been ice cold to the touch. How she hated it, hated being led around in such a way! Still, there was little she could do at the moment, aside from retreat into her own thoughts.

If only her suitor was actually kind and gentlemanly, instead of this pathetic farce, then maybe she would have considered marrying him! If he actually cared for her aspirations or thoughts, instead of pushing them aside like he knew better! But it was simply not to be; no one else cared enough to court her, her parents growing impatient, and so this was the result. She could only stifle the sob that escaped her lips as his hand half walked her, half dragged her along the road to her abode...


	3. A New World

Through the fog he could see lights, dim in their brightness, steadily growing as he walked towards them. They were pinkprocks in the darkness of the fog, seeming to call out to him, guiding his steps. Maybe he had gotten closer to home than he thought, walking as he did. It soon became apparent to him that this was not the case, as he walked onward, the lights growing in their intensity.

He soon came to see that they were streetlights of a kind, similar in make to the ones back home, yet not nearly as large and twisted. They were almost as tall as he was, shining quite brightly as they pushed away the eerie fog, making his surroundings much easier to see. And he knew then that it was not his home he had come upon, but someplace quite different. Lively, might be the operative term here, the air reaching his nostrils not as decayed or decadent as it had been. Indeed, even the stones he walked upon felt more alive in a sense, inanimate though they were. A stirring began to settle into his frame then, a restlessness that made him want to prance about. Yet he did not, holding the impulse back until he had gotten a better view of this place.

Houses lined the cobblestone path, street lamps barely illuminating them in the dense fog. They were nothing special, simple structures made of wood, the path winding further down until it became completely enveloped by the fog. He decided to follow it, until he came upon a large open area, similar to the town square of his own home. At least he assumed that it's what it was; seeing as empty stall lined the space, a well of sorts directly in the center of town, along with a few more ornate buildings he could only guess at their purpose. Maybe they were similar to the Town Hall, where citizens could gather for meetings? He wasn't sure, his curiosity compelling him to investigate further, also noticing the way the path split before him. Before he could so however, his excellent hearing was able to pick up the muffled steps of someone coming closer. Just to be safe, the lanky skeleton hid behind one of the empty stalls, not wanting to be seen just yet. And he was smart to do so, as the creature that appeared before him was not a monster of any kind, but something else entirely. It was a creature he had seen many times, though usually only on the day the veil had pierced their world enough for even the weakest of his kind to enter.

A human being.

It made his marrow run cold, surprise making a chill run down his spine—but if it was of fear or excitement he could not tell. He simply watched them walk around the square, a torch in hand as they went about their business, muttering to themselves every so often before finally leaving. This fascinated him; how had he ended up here, of all places?

Somehow, through the magic of the forest, he had stumbled into the Human World. Just one of the other few reasons that place was seen as dangerous; it could get people lost in moments, and no one would know where they'd end up. But he was the Pumpkin King, major spirit of Halloween, and the one who controlled the very fabric of that world. If it had brought him here, then maybe it had done so purposefully. Had it sensed the melancholy in his heart, whisking him away from the place where he felt most trapped? He honestly could not say. He was simply glad to be gone from it all, even if for a moment. The leering stares of his citizens, the nagging Mayor, the expectations piled on him, year after year.

Even with it being September, close to the month in which the spirits came out in the Human World, he found he didn't care about the Hallows Eve preparations as much as he should. Why, they could do without their King for once. His burning curiosity about these humans compelled him to stay and observe them. When else would he get a chance to do so? Other than Hallows Eve of course, but that was in a much different capacity. When he usually came upon humans it was to spook them, terrifying them for his own delight. Here, they were simply going about their lives, oblivious to his presence. Here, he could watch them without a care in the world, indulging his curiosity about their lives and customs.

One could only learn so much from books, after all, and he had already perused the few the Town had to offer on the subject of humans. No, here...here he could maybe get to know the elusive species better, and not simply for scaring ideas! This was it; the chance he needed, he felt. It was decided then; he would stay, and observe as much as he could. What harm would it do? Maybe he could find something to rekindle the ember of passion that had left him. Until then, he would not be going back to Town anytime soon. He would find his inspiration, even if it killed him, and go back only when his work was completely done! Set on this path, the Pumpkin King grinned excitedly as he thought of how he could do so; time to get to work...

Unfortunately, observing the humans turned out to be more work than he was expecting. Days came and went, people going about their routines, and yet he felt nothing. No spark, no blast of inspiration that gave him energy. That was fine, he told himself. It would be too easy if he stumbled upon it right away. He wanted to work for it, and more time spent here meant less time spent back home. This was going to be a tiring endeavor; thankfully he had the willpower and patience for it. After a few more days of quiet observation, hiding the shadows and creeping in the night, he finally came upon something that piqued his curiosity. It was pure luck he stumbled upon them too, but luck that he wasn't going to let slip through his bony fingers.

It was sudden, during one of his regular stalks about the small village while looking for something to observe. He had come upon a simple housewife, her expression quite curious to him as he noticed the odd spring in her step as she made her way to the town square. Humans certainly had a lot to talk about; though most of it was dull nothings. Who did what and how the latest harvest was going on—he found it quite insightful at first—before it began to droll on as the days went by. He had heard some tales here and there of something going on in the village.

Yet he was not able to gather too much on said topic; most of the town seemed tight lipped or unwilling to divulge the information. Maybe this human would be the one to let it slip in her excitement. Following her, the skeleton silently berated himself as he crept along. Was this really the most interesting thing he had found? It's something, I suppose...He waited, until he began to hear the footsteps of another human come closer to the other. This most certainly seemed to be the primary spot of gossip in town, going by how many humans stopped here to chat.

He hid behind the shadow of a house, his excellent hearing able to pick up their conversation as if he was right next to them. For they were certainly chattering loudly enough, around the well as they were, gossiping to one another with hushed tones.

"But, did you not hear?"

He edged closer then, his curiosity compelling him to listen in. Certainly not much had been happening in the quaint village since he decided to stay. Which was nice; even he appreciated some peace and quiet now and again. Still, something inside him was restless, aching for adventure. So, he listened to the housewives gossip, even though eavesdropping wasn't exactly the most interesting or gentlemanly idea he'd had.

"Hear what?"

"One of the greater Lords came into our village a few days prior. Seems he is looking for a suitable wife; he seems smitten with the Keatings girl for some unfathomable reason, however."

"With her? That plain, borish thing? I don't see what she can offer him…"

"True. She's quiet, and not very much to look at. Why, I'm surprised our Lord even considered her!"

"Who are we to question what they do?"

Huh. Well, that was something, at least. Maybe he would go see these 'Keatings' then. Just to sate his curiosity. They simply had more going on for them than the rest of the town, it seemed, if they were the topic of such gossip. Then again, the mutterings of housewives usually amounted to little more than just chatter. Still, it would be more interesting than watching the baker at work, or waiting for the local delivery boy to bring news. Now he would just need to find out where the place was. Why he hadn't heard of it before was beyond him. Maybe he simply hadn't been watching the right people? It didn't help that most of the houses seemed to look exactly the same; boring, wooden structures that held no life in their craft—no looming structures like his own abode or the Doctor's twisting tower. Yet, looking at the sun rising above the sky, he had more than enough time to look. His mind set, a pang of excitement welling up in his rib cage, he carefully crept away from the humans, slinking into the shadows and beginning his search. Maybe now he would find it; the spark that gave him his inspiration!


	4. Flight

There was a reason he had not found the house before now. It was a simple as any of the others, nothing really making it stand out. It was completely possible that he had passed by it during his walks about the village. He would have missed it again for not one detail that set it apart from the others; an empty carriage, neatly parked by the front of the abode.

He was even more curious about the carriage as he came closer. It was a stark contrast to the plain looking house, emblazoned and intricately fashioned from the spurs to the undercarriage itself. I certainly doubt it belongs to one of the residents. Maybe that so called Lord the townsfolk were gossiping about is the owner? I wonder…

Hearing a plethora of noises inside the house, Jack crept closer to the building, confident he would not be seen. He had honed his craft for centuries, decades after all, and no human would be able to spot him so easily unless he wished it. Or made a very grave error on his part.

He watched the residents inside, through what he could see in their windows. It was a simple family; aging parents with their single child. No hints that they were the ones who owned the carriage; indeed, they looked as if they could not even come close to affording such a lavish luxury! Still, he continued to observe the proceedings inside, curious as to what all this fuss was about. Until he finally laid empty sockets on the person who seemed to be the only one that could have possibly claimed ownership of the carriage.

He was so different, so outlandish compared to the rest of the people in the house, Jack was surprised he hadn't noticed the man first. Then again, maybe it was because of the fact that he was partially blocked by one of the other humans sitting on some upholstery. Shifting his view slightly, the tall skeleton observed the gathering in more detail, though his focus was not lost on the well dressed man. He could barely make them out as it was, only able to see the most basic of details due to the distance and the quality of the glass window. Still, with his extraordinary sight it was enough for him to guess what exactly was happening.

A wide stature was the first thing he noticed, the man easily taking up the space of one and a half people where he sat on the furniture. His posture was more refined than the other person he sat next to, Jack noticing a small, petite woman nearly hunched in her seat as she tried to make herself as invisible as possible. The sight confused him, for the young woman was clearly uncomfortable; yet the man at her side paid her no heed, even going so far as to rest one of his larger hands across her much smaller one. This made her jump, fear clear in her wide eyes as she regarded the man she was sitting next to. He simply let out a small chortle, pulling himself closer to the small woman, who squirmed in his grasp.

Was this the so-called betrothed couple the town had been referring to?

They didn't seem much like a couple to Jack, from what little he understood of such things. Weren't couples supposed to be lovey and all over each other? Yet the woman seemed to want nothing to do with the man at her side—at least it seemed that way to Jack. He understood fear better than anyone else, and the woman was distraught, despite doing her best to hide it all behind a kind, unassuming smile. She probably did not want to upset the man or her parents, which he could only assume were the other figures seated nearby.

He noticed something inside him stir then, a sensation that felt as if his phantom heart had dropped into his spine.

He felt it again as he watched the woman attempt to sit up, bowing politely before excusing herself from the gathering—much to her suitor's chagrin. The man almost seemed offended as he watched her walk away, something akin to a sneer on his face, before it was quickly turned into a smile. Only a half hour later did he hear the front door open, the sound of footsteps hurriedly running across the lawn make him slink into the shadows once more. Though not before noticing that the gentleman had left the room, leaving the parents to stare worriedly at each other before they began moving their mouths again. Then he saw her; running away from the house, drawings and papers clenched to her chest as she went.

He peeked his head around the tree, noticing that the young woman had begun to pick up her pace, going further away from the house as the front door creaked open once again, curious about what he had just seen. Even he understood that the direction she was heading lead its way into the forest. A dangerous place for any mortal; now doubly so with the onset of evening. Who knew what kind of horrors, spirits or harmful animals awaited in there? And he could hear the man's voice trailing after her, hounding her hurried footsteps as they crunched through the leaves, his tone clearly hostile.

"You tramp...I will find you! You cannot hide from me in there forever. It shall be dark soon, and all manner of things settle into the woods at night!"

Jack frowned at the man's supposed threat, his mind whirling as he thought of ideas. She was clearly going into danger, but she was human. It was not his place to interfere, being a spirit and not a mortal. For them to interact was dangerous, even with the world's veil between the realms growing weaker as All Hallows' Eve approached.

Yet he couldn't deny the concern he felt pierce his rib cage as he remembered her tear stricken face, stockings rumpled as she ran deeper and deeper into the tree line. He could at least follow her, make sure no other harmful beings would come upon her, he supposed. With that thought in mind, he quickly followed after the young woman, being as quiet as the night itself...

"I—I'm terribly sorry. I'm not feeling well...I—I need to leave."

She sputtered out, her voice weak and barely audible in the large room. She really didn't want to stay with this man a moment longer; maybe if she said she wasn't feeling well, her parents would take pity on her.

She quickly hurried to her room, feet walking briskly against the hardwood floor as she went down the hallway. Being careful not to disturb the conversation in the dining quarters, she opened her door as quietly as she could, before slipping inside. She sat on her bed in silence, hands curled around the hem of her dress fighting back the onset of tears as the back of her eyes began to burn. She wanted to forget the touch of his hand on hers, the way his greasy fingers tried to slide into the palm of her hand. No. She couldn't dwell on such thoughts! Yet her mind was abuzz with ideas, scenarios, images that would not leave her. She rushed from her spot to the desk in her room, grabbing a writing utensil and piece of paper…

She chuckled softly to herself. It was a simple drawing, nothing more than lines on paper, trees maybe? How long had she actually spent on the piece? She wasn't sure, and part of her felt her stomach drop as she couldn't think of anything substantial to turn it into. Still, at least it made the nervousness and anxiety from before lessen somewhat. Drawing thankfully kept her mind clear, or at least usually did. Now, she could barely make a simple circle; her mind clouded with thoughts about her future. She stared at the paper despondently, frustrated at herself for the lack of quality, shoving it under some of the books she had been studying a fortnight ago.

A harsh knock at the door startled her, papers shuffling around. She only understood that she began to feel hungry and tired as she got up from her seat to answer the door. She was barely surprised to see her suitor staring back at her in the hallway, his face expressionless as he spoke.

"Are you feeling quite well? You left so suddenly…"

Yes, because your untoward advances made me uncomfortable. She thought, unable to gather the courage to say the words aloud. So she simply nodded, head focused on his feet as she spoke softly.

"Yes...I'm sorry. I haven't been f-feeling too well recently. My s-sickness becomes more pronounced around t-this time of the year…"

He nodded, barely alerting her before he began to cross the threshold of her door, which made her heart pound intensely. He looked around the room with a dissatisfied noise, as if he was judging it, before noticing the stack of books on her desk and heading towards those. She wouldn't be surprised if he was.

"I see...What a waste; the only thing you'll need to be able to do when you are my wife is cleaning and cooking, and watching my children. Though I suppose leaning some of the upper classes decorum would be advantageous for you. In order for you not to embarrass me when we have guests over…"

It felt as if a rock had been dropped into her gut at his words. For him to so plainly admonish her effort and accomplishments, and insisting it was all for nothing, stung her to her very core. She simply stood there shocked; why had her parents chosen this horrible man to be her husband? He must have offered them something in return, for he certainly couldn't have won them over with his supposed nobleman charm. Unless he was a very good actor...She turned to him, confusion clear on her face as she watched him rifle through her things. What is he doing!?

To her horror, he had managed to see some of the contours of the drawings despite their hiding place beneath her books. His brow furrowed, eyes narrowing with an aminal-like ferocity, before he turned on her with an expression that made her heart leap to her throat.

"What is this!? Still playing at being an artist?"

He grabbed the sheet of paper, neatly crumpling it in his hand with the force. She let out a surprised gasp then, seeing his face twist so wretchedly as he glared at her. Not that she didn't particularly expect his reaction; the man was always telling her she would never make a good artist, that the field was only for men, and that she might as well give up trying. He would provide for her, he had said then, and the thought made something hot and vile churn in her gut.

She couldn't really answer him, anxiety swimming in her stomach and making her legs start to shake. No, he won't destroy my work! He doesn't understand! So she grabbed her papers and fled out the room, ignoring the distressed cries from her parents and suitor as she bolted out the front door. She simply ran, adrenaline pumping her onwards as she simply knew she had to get away from him. It didn't matter where, as long as he would not follow her.

It wasn't long before she found herself stumbling on branches, trees pricking holes in her dress and exposed skin, leaving small bleeding nicks here and there. She didn't really care; he couldn't catch her, no matter what! He would destroy her work otherwise, the snobbish man. Not to think of the things he would attempt to do to her afterwards.

Why? Why had her parents chosen him, of all people!? Was there really no one better for her? At this thought, she felt tears stream down her face anew, clutching the papers to her chest as she sobbed. She felt her legs give out, her chest racing with exertion as she had never really run so fast before.

Stumbling into the dirt, a horrible ripping noise coming from below her, she simply crawled to the nearest tree, unable to do much more. Her back hit a hard surface then, rough and textured, and she slid along the trunk of the tree, down to her now dirty knees. There she continued to sob, papers still tightly clutched in her grasp lest she lose them, wailing freely now as there was no one to hear her cries of despair...


	5. Misery

Jack followed after the young woman cautiously, concerned that she was running quite far into the woods. However, given what he had seen of the man who had been chasing her, and his earlier attitude, he couldn't blame her for running off as she did. He was careful as he shadowed her movements, slinking through the shadows and near trees as quietly as possible so as not to startle her further.

A shuffling noise made him duck behind a nearby tree when he noticed she had stopped moving, his thin frame easily leaning against its trunk while still being completely concealed from view. He certainly didn't want to be seen at the moment. It would be dangerous for both himself and the human in question. Still, that didn't stop him from peering around the trunk, making him focus on the young woman.

"He can't find me; Oh, oh…please..."

He felt his heart sink as he watched the small figure lean against the tree, her sobs stifled by her tiny hands as the human held them against her mouth, his supernatural vision giving him a decent sight of her features despite the onset of night. He felt for her situation, trapped as she was with seemingly no way out, like him—unable to help her and yet wanting to—the poor woman making his chest ache at the way she softly sobbed. her face was hidden by her slim hands that clutched at papers, the light of the moon accentuating what he could make out of her features. A stirring began in his slender frame as he beheld her sorrowful figure, her petite body lain across the tree trunk as she covered her face with her hands. He felt an impulse to move towards her then, yet stopped as his excellent hearing picked out a fiercely agitated voice among the din of the forest.

"Where did you go!? I'll find you!"

The shout made a tiny gasp escape her lips, her breaths now coming out in short hiccups. Jack frowned, his sockets narrowed as he watched her shiver from fear before moving away from where he was hidden, in order to find where the voice had come from. It only took him a scant few minutes to find the cause; her damnable suitor. Of course he had followed her. Unlike before, his countenance was anything but regal, features twisted into a grimace as he trod through the woods. The skeleton looked back to where the woman was hiding, noticing she did not move from her spot, eyes now darting to and fro as she clutched the papers to her corset, still frozen in terror. He knew the empty look in her wide eyes; hopelessness, fear and pure despair.

It had haunted him for the last decade now, no matter how he had tried to distract himself from it. Losing himself in his work only seemed to have made it worse, causing him to despair over the holiday he once had loved. Now he had nothing, no reason to keep going and only saw darkness in his future. Which was why he was taking a gamble now, sneaking out into the human world, to try and find something—to give him a purpose.

A scream of terror shot him out of his reflections, the young woman having finally been found out by her pursuer. Peeking his skull from behind the tree, he watched as the man moved right into her personal space, an arm tightly gripping her shoulder. He didn't like that, being one to highly value his own personal space. For that man to invade hers without so much as a second thought annoyed him, even though he did not know her personally. He could tell from the petrified look on her face that she certainly didn't enjoy the contact.

He crouched lower in the shadows, not wanting to be seen yet but also very concerned about what was happening right in front of him. He didn't know them, wasn't sure if it was his place to interfere in human business, but he couldn't simply stay and watch...this. He was a gentleman, and what was happening right now certainly made him question the supposed noble pedigree of her suitor.

Was this man supposed to be her betrothed? Yet he was violent with her, eyes wild and voice loud as thunder as he shouted the most horrid words barely inches from her covered face. Jack felt the urge to do something. While he was thinking this, the well dressed man continued his tirade at the poor young woman, causing her to shrink even further from him. But what could he do?

"Both your parents and I wish for you to stop this foolishness. Where will this lead you? No woman can pursue a fully fledged career in the field of art! Less so one who does not act like a proper woman should!"

Her supposed suitor snatched the papers out of her hands, a startled gasp escaping her as they flew everywhere. The few he managed to hang onto crumpled in his vice like grip, before the man began to tear at them, the woman letting out an anguished scream as the pieces fluttered to the ground. A discomfort began to form near the area where Jack's stomach would be located, had he any organs as he watched the rest of the documents flutter close to where he hid. This was just too much. He couldn't stand for this...Destroying someone's dreams like that, leaving them with nothing but hopelessness and despair. How horrible.

"What need have you of those things!? Once you marry me, you will have enough to do as it is. No time for playing at pen and paper with your pathetic drawings!"

"...I…I don't love y—ooh!"

The resounding slap as the man's hand cut swiftly across her face made a yell of pain escape her, cutting off her words and making her start to cry anew, glasses falling onto the dirty ground. Tears flooded her cheeks, her face now fully in his field of view, one of which was a bright scarlet from where her suitor had struck it. The man seemed to pay her distress little mind, scowling horribly at her crying figure. He watched as the man began to grab her harshly by the wrist, his own skeletal hands unconsciously balling into tight fists as he took a single step forward, pulling her towards the man as she made a pained expression. She fought against him for a moment, attempting to grab her dropped spectacles, before he let out a growl of frustration.

"Come now, enough—of this foolishness! You are hysterical; It is late, and your parents—are surely worried—about you. Let—us—return!"

She didn't resist his pull then, head tilted downwards as she looked towards the ground. That's it! He thought, unable to watch the scene before him any longer. Rules be damned, he was going to interfere! Then again, if they couldn't see him, it wouldn't really count as interference would it? A smirk flashed across his skull then, before he began purposefully disturbing the leaves around the two, letting out a soft moan. He crept closer to the pair, using the lack of light to his advantage, making sure they barely saw him as he flit from tree to tree, making various noises.

"Ooooo…."

He could see the beginnings of more tears in her eyes, her tiny frame shaking as she was being led along, which only spurred him on further. Acting as quickly as he could, a low moan erupted out of his throat, making the pair jump slightly as it was carried by the wind. It soon joined with other calls; wolves, birds, and became a cacophony of sounds, though he made sure his wailing voice was heard out of all the others.

"Ooooooo…"

He popped out from behind the tree then, using his fire to his advantage to create the tiniest wisps of light in his empty sockets, long hands bared as if they were claws, barely visible in the darkness, though he knew they had the vague impression that something was there. He swore their eyes met for a fraction of a second, an instant in which his round skull was reflected back at him in her hazel pupils, before shock and fear made her eyes flutter shut, mouth silently opened to scream. He felt a sharp pang of guilt then, his phantom heart beating intensely inside his empty rib cage, which shocked and surprised him. She collapsed upon the spot, her hand loosening from the man's tough grip, falling to the leaf covered ground with a harsh noise. That made him wince slightly; he hoped she wasn't too hurt from the fall. She looked to be in enough pain as it was.

Her betrothed only took in her state for a moment, before looking at the spot where he supposedly was, then around the area in a panic, eyes wide with terror as sweat dripped down his face. Jack had already hid back behind a tree, wondering if he needed to jump out a second time, not wanting the humans to get a clear glimpse of him. If they simply saw him as a bump in the night, one of the many things in the forest that they needed to be wary of, that was fine with him. Thankfully, it seemed he had spooked the man well enough, as he let out a pathetic cry, voice cracking as he slowly began to backpedal.

"D-Demons!? They wish to spirit us away! Oh my heavens; I cannot stay here! Take her; take this accursed woman and leave me be!"

The man ran off into the night, back the way he had came, leaving the poor woman very much alone and unprotected, which made concern for her well being sprang up in his ribs. After all that talk, what a coward the man was! Did he not care for her, as he said he supposedly did? Then he should have stayed by her side, not run off like some scared child. The poor thing, having to suffer the 'affections' of a man like that…

Oh, how he wished he could truly intervene in their scuffle. He'd teach him what was what, the pathetic coward! His gaze softened as he laid his sockets on her prone form, fighting an internal battle within himself. She's a human...I can't get involved any further than I already have. She simply lay there on the cold, hard ground, unmoving, her chest slowly rising as she breathed. He examined the extent of the damage the man had caused, anger and worry welling up in his chest as he did so. Her eyes had become red from crying so harshly, one cheek still blooming crimson and even a tad distended. Her short locks were splayed in varying directions, leaves entangled in some of the shorter curls. He felt another small pull at his chest then, a slender hand going towards it and gripping the center of his white dress shirt as he did so. I...should leave...but I can't simply leave the poor woman like this...

Her hair was much shorter and not even close to a shining red as the woman in his dream. She wasn't as thin as the rag doll in his dream, more filled out around the waist and thighs, with a dress that barely went halfway. It was slightly tattered, as were her stockings, no doubt from running as carelessly through the woods as she had. He found that didn't matter; the skeleton till felt a rush of emotion he didn't quite understand as he regarded her. Her skin was slightly tan and not a pale blue, no stitches to be found, though he blanched as he noticed the small cuts and droplets of blood that marred her delicate body.

After waiting a few moments, making sure the vile man had completely left, Jack walked out of his hiding place. He crouched down towards her then—against his better judgment—scooping her up into his arms, one hand carefully supporting her head while the other kept her legs steady. Despite her somewhat hefty figure, he found she was quite light, and somewhat cold. She had been on the ground for a while, yet it still surprised him as his hand brushed against her arm accidentally, her skin quite cool against his hard hand. He looked around, hoping to salvage at least some of her papers, but they had fluttered to somewhere deeper in the forest. Besides, now was not the time for that; though he was curious about the work on them. Maybe he could find them later, after he had made sure she was safe and secure. It would give him something to do, he supposed.

It's not as if he could simply leave her here, having caused her to faint in the first place. His sense of chivalry simply wouldn't allow him to abandon her. Then he would be no better than her suitor, and the thought of that made his narrow boil. No, the poor woman deserved better, much better than the pompous oaf who she was chained to.

But where would he go? In the same direction her betrothed had run off to? It's not as if he could bring her home with him; her being a mortal and all, the two of their worlds never really meant to intertwine. Jack knew he couldn't leave her, not in the situation she was in now. So he simply adjusted his grip on her small body, making sure he had a good hold on it, before he stared up at the night sky, pondering what would be the best course of action for him to take.

He hated to admit it, but he was partially curious as to how this whole scenario would play out. It certainly was interesting. And he couldn't deny the odd urge he felt as he looked upon her bruised face, running a bony finger along her locks, marveling at soft it felt and shuffling a few leaves out of the tresses in the process.

After a few moments, he began walking towards the small village she called home. He didn't really approve of it, but it was the only option he could think of at the moment. Certainly her family would take care of her, wouldn't they? Part of him was uncertain, as her suitor had ran off, screaming about demons. Humans were wary when it came to things such as himself, though he meant no one any harm. If they thought something was wrong with her, if she had been 'spirited away' by something, then the poor woman would have a harsh time of it. So he would stay, Jack decided as he came upon the familiar lights that blanketed the village, and watch as things developed...


	6. Fears

It was quite late as he came into the center of the empty village; most sensible folk would be sleeping by this time. Or doing things most sensible folk saw as not so acceptable under the cover of darkness, as humans were want to do. It seemed safe enough during the day, but as it was with places, night was when the true essence of things 'came to light' as it were. And humans were a confusing bunch, as he had seen from his more recent observations and general ideas from stalking them on All Hallows' Eve. When better to see the hidden side of humanity, during the time when the veil lifted!

It was for this reason the skeleton was concerned for her safety, cradling her unconscious body in his long arms, not wanting to simply drop the poor thing off in the village and leave her be. Lest that man find her and possibly do worse...He'd rather not think of what. She had made small whimpers here and there as he had carried her along, her body shaking slightly due to the chill, but she showed no real signs of stirring anytime soon. Which slightly worried him; had he scared her that badly? The skeleton felt guilty at the idea, he had only meant to help her. Concerned, he gently laid a bony hand across her neck, checking for a pulse just to be safe.

It was quiet, but he did feel the throbs of life under his palm, though her skin was still quite chilled. He lingered there for a few moments, simply to make sure that the beats did not change in any way, worried that they may stop altogether. He soon found himself traveling upward, his hand brushing a lock of hair away from her closed eyes, cupping her cheek delicately. Her hair was still damp, wetting his phalanges slightly as they treaded through the thick, tangled curls, and her skin was cold, possibly clammy even as the tips of his bones began to lightly caress her flesh. He was confused by his actions, but was careful to not leave any further scratches on her marred face, marveling at how the skin had already begun to develop a deep black bruise underneath. Humans certainly were delicate creatures if they could be hurt so easily! It made a surge of anger rush through him then, remembering the man who had done this to her, and what more damage he possibly could have inflicted on the poor woman had Jack not intervened.

All the more reason for him to get her home safely, he supposed. Her family could patch her up, and maybe by then she'd regain consciousness enough to inform them of what had happened. Then, he hoped, they would do something about that horrible lout they had tried to marry her off to. At least, that was his hope as he trudged through the darkened streets, avoiding any signs of human or animal activity lest he be discovered holding an unconscious body. It only took him a few minutes of careful searching to find the house, the inside of which showed no sign of activity, no lights or flickering candles to show people were still up and about.

With a quick, yet harsh tapping at the door with his bony knuckles—hopefully enough to catch their attention—he carefully set the young woman down onto the ground, before he hid in the tree line then, not wanting anyone to see him. He hoped her family would help her, which was why he had chosen to bring the poor thing back home in the first place. It would be better than leaving her alone somewhere, certainly!

Thankfully—after heading back and rapping on the door a couple more times—lights began to turn on in the house, footsteps soon heading towards their position. Hiding into the bushes, Jack waited with anticipation as the door creaked open, a figure holding lit lamp peeking out of the frame. A horrible shriek rang out, the older woman staring at the body of her daughter and panicking, nearly throwing the lamp. The father arrived soon after, his usually stern features twisted with anger and confusion as he beheld the sight in front of him.

The skeleton thought he saw something else smoldering in those sunken eyes, an emotion he couldn't quite identify—then it was gone. He was able to calm the older woman down enough so that they could get their daughter inside. Jack still did his best to listen, worried about her condition, creeping as best he could towards a window that had been left open near the kitchen—to let bread cool, of all things.

He heard the sound of grunting and shuffling, most likely the father carrying her up to her room, the mothers panicked sobs following. It continued for a while, how long he could not exactly say—before he heard the sound of a door shut quietly, and pairs of footsteps move closer to where he was situated. It was dark out, and he was hidden quite low to ground, so he highly doubted either of the humans could see him. That didn't stop him from being overly cautious as he listened to the humans speak, interested in every word they had to say. He was concerned for the young woman; hopefully they might assuage his worries a small bit.

"W-What happened...to our dear daughter?"

"I'm not certain...She did run off into the woods. The young man we had made her suitor went after her. But, he returned earlier, horribly shaken. And our ungrateful daughter was not with him."

He heard the father say, and felt the venom in his voice as the man admonished his offspring. Maybe the undead monarch had no right to an opinion, being an outsider and interfering as he did, but he felt that her father was being somewhat harsh on the poor girl. It certainly made him uneasy, an odd feeling rising to his chest as he heard the father continue his rant.

"We set up everything for her to lead a happy life, and she wishes to throw it away for...scribblings on paper and the foolish idea of 'true love'! Damnation!"

"Oh dearest...She's young, and naive. Maybe we should let her at least try to pursue her dr—"

He heard the loud smack of something hitting a surface then, along with a pained gasp from whom he could only assume was her mother. Anger flares through him then, his lithe form trembling against the darkness. How despicable this man was, to lay a hand upon his wife! Now he understood why her father had not made too much of a fuss upon seeing his child's blemished face; Jack wouldn't be surprised if he himself had inflicted similar injuries in the past. Pity coursed through his being then, a hand unconsciously moving up to cover his chest, sockets closed slightly in silent contemplation. Until he heard the soft voice of the mother, somewhat strained compared to before as she tried to speak again.

"B-But...but if she was not...brought here b-by Lord Keogh, then who? G-Gods, do you think…!?"

"I do not know! We should simply take care of her for now, see that she is behaving. If—rather when—she wakes up, if she is still in her right mind, we can decide whether to send a priest or not."

There. It was settled for him. He should stay and watch the small family, for the young woman's sake. He felt worried, however, and this stopped the skeleton from moving away from his hiding place just yet. He swore he could hear soft, quiet sobs, coming from somewhere above him. He knew who they came from, but understood he could not go to comfort her, however much his principles yelled at him to never leave a woman in tears. Hearing the parents footsteps move away from the room, the discussion apparently finished, Jack also decided to take his leave, vanishing once more under cover of darkness. His mind was abuzz with thoughts, pestering him as he walked onward.

He was glad he had helped her, even if it was just this once. Even if they could never actually meet. Even if his chest ached with an indignant fury at the idea of leaving her with that monster of a human being. For he was a spirit, one of the dead, and she was living. It would be wrong of him to interfere further. At best, the most he could do was watch, make sure she came to no further harm. He told himself this over and over, almost like a vow, a litany that he would not break. He would not get involved. He would simply watch, and hope things turned out well for her…

Things, of course, did not turn out well for the young woman as the days turned into a week. Was she simply cursed with horrible luck, he wondered? During that time, she had rarely left the house, as he had watched her carefully when he was in the area, still wanting to take stock of the rest of the town. Just because—or maybe it was the reason—he was concerned for her sake didn't mean he could slack off at watching the other humans in their daily routines. Which seemed to have shifted slightly, he noticed, as many of them began to gossip with one another, not as focused on their work as before. He would catch whispers about the 'ungrateful girl', so lucky to have such a suitor, and how she deserved the slap across the face for rebuffing him. He was a Lord, after all, and she simply a commoner.

Or they assumed the blow was from 'the demons', the small cuts that graced her legs seemingly being the monsters' claws or tree branches that she had held onto as they attempted to drag her off. Some whispered she was touched, or and He had heard her parents speak of possibly asking her suitor to bring a priest in using his connections to the clergy—being a noble as he was—the two sides oft intertwined. That way they could make sure of the claims, and assuage their own worries at the same time. Either way, the rumors being spread did little to help her reputation. Every time the young woman went into the small village square, usually with the purpose of shopping—eyes were turned her way, whispers now surrounding the young woman who had rebuffed a Lord. She didn't confront them about it, either because of her bad sight unable to notice the leering gases shot her way or because she was purposefully ignoring it, but he noticed that she became more exhausted as time went on, bags slowly forming under her small eyes. Maybe the emotional and mental strain was starting to take its toll on her health?

He usually at least had the foresight to hide himself in one of the nearby neighbors fields, pretending to be a scarecrow so that he could get a good vantage point on everything and yet not attract too much attention. Thankfully they left him well enough alone, for he was smart enough to use a pumpkin to disguise his skull—glad his vegetable carving talents had finally been put to some practical use after decades—and for that he was lucky. Other than the racket of crows, the pumpkin wearing skeleton shooing them away with a hard glare, the humans didn't bother him, though the old couple who owned the farm was confused about the oddly spindly scarecrow at first.

When Jack wasn't stalking about the house, he crept through the village, sticking to narrow alleyways and dark corners. The spaces between the houses was not too great, where he could make out things with not exact detail but enough thanks to his inhuman sight. He had done this several times before while scouting for information. Not to mention while scaring folks for Hallows Eve numerous times before; it was one of his more favorite tricks. Though rumors had begun to surface of an entity that stalked through the village at night, slinking through shadows and lingering in the darkness. Which made him more than a little concerned; was he losing his touch? Or were these new rumors simply overlapping with the ones that had been bubbling up; and for that he felt worried. He wasn't causing more trouble by trying to watch out for her, was he? He simply wasn't sure, and things soon escalated too quickly for him to find out.

A few days after she had been returned home, around a week—right after he had hoped everything would settle down—some of the villagers, as well as her suitor came knocking on her family's door. This troubled Jack greatly as he watched from his perch in the nearby field; hopefully nothing much would come of it. Knowing humans however, he doubted it would be that simple. They tended to over complicate the most simple of things. And her suitor was...a despicable man, if Jack had anything to say about it. He hadn't left a good first impression on the holiday monarch, at least. And this was souring him even further in the skeleton's sockets. For now, he could do nothing but watch, strung up somewhat uncomfortably to keep up the illusion he was immobile. Though part of him wanted to give the humans a good fright, so that they would trouble her no more, he understood that would only harm her further.

Was it my fault? Maybe I should have left them well enough alone...No! And let that poor woman be subjected to...No. I did the right thing. She'll be fine; they are probably just worried for her health. Although seeing him here makes me have my doubts…

He could barely pick up their conversation, straining to hear anything that might give a clue as to what was going on. He did notice though, that the parents easily gave way for the noble to step inside, which made a chill go down his spine. He was worried, even more so when he noticed the man nearly drag the young woman out of the house, her footsteps somewhat halting as they followed along. The villagers kept their distance, yet surrounded the pair so as to keep them boxed in.

Wasting no time, the skeleton quickly abandoned his post, easily slipping down to the ground and replacing the scarecrow with its parts as he usually did when he needed to leave for a while. He stalked after the group, making sure to be as quiet as the night as he went, not wanting to attract any undo attention lest he make things worse.

They soon came upon a building, one he had tried to investigate several times but found no way inside. It stymied him, but before he had paid it no mind, too intent on people watching as he was and learning their ways. Now, he started to regret that mistake. He watched as they led her inside the large building, the door slamming shut with an ominous bang. The skeleton waited a few moments before creeping forward, seeing as it was daytime and there was the possibility he could be spotted. He came as close to the building as he dared, slinking into the bushes nearby.

He wished to hear them, surprised he could not pick up even the slightest trace of their conversation inside through the building's thin walls or windows. From what little he had seen of the man, he was dangerous. Still, that was when the two of them were alone; maybe having more people around would temper the man's ire. At least he hoped so. He crept toward the door, hoping maybe he could sneak inside to watch what was happening, feeling an odd buzzing in his skull as he did so. He could a feel a power radiating from it, one unlike anything he had felt before when he had examined the place, which grew stronger the closer he attempted to get. Putting a hand to the wood surface of the door, the structure denied him entry, as he felt a force push him roughly backwards, making him land on his backside.

Now he was even more curious; none of the other buildings gave him that type of reaction before, so why had this one? He looked up at the towering ramparts, noticing that this building was constructed quite differently than the others. Where they were plain and simple, this was ornate and eloquent. He'd wager it was the most impressive looking building in the village. The lanky skeleton wasn't sure of what its usage was, but considering they had brought the girl here to be questioned, maybe it was similar in function to the Town Hall back home. It was certainly more decked out than the Town Hall, he noticed.

So he hid in the shadows, barely able to see what was going on because of the odd colorations of the window, hoping that they weren't treating her too harshly. He had simply wanted to help; he didn't mean to cause this amount of trouble...


	7. Nightmares

Her sleep had been a series of fits and slow starts, all throughout the week, keeping her awake at the oddest hours or waking her up in the middle of the night. Nightmares assaulted her, leaving her awake in a cold sweat, too frightened to sleep lest they come upon her again. She could barely remember them, though she was left with a feeling of loss afterwards, like something precious had been snatched from her at the last moment. It usually started with her lost in the woods, much as she had been that very night, walking through the mist in a daze. She was unable to remember any more, as doing so gave her quite the headache, so she tried putting it out of her mind as best she was able. It was no use however, as they trailed her through her waking hours.

She attempted to recall them as best she could, drawing pieces and fragments here and there when she had time, but it was to no avail. The papers were often left crumpled on the floor or ripped to shreds, her frustrations taking hold of her at last before she tried to sleep again, much to the same result. She was often consumed with thoughts of the dreams during her waking hours and what they could possibly mean, if only to make the nightmares go away and leave her in peace.

Of course, her parents and the townsfolk around her began to notice her strange behavior. As the days turned to a week, she found herself seldom leaving the house, unless it was to sneak out after one of her more horrible nightmares. She often found it was easier to sketch them during this time, when the fragments were still fresh in her consciousness. Still, she was left with vague images and dark shadows, her waking mind left questioning just what her imagination was thinking up. She hid these works, as she understood that if anyone came upon them her sanity might be taken into question. She was already seen as an outlier by the rest of the village, now more than ever, and this would simply be another strike against her. She would rather not have that happen, though the nightmares continued to plague her, leaving her bereft of sleep and body weary. Her eyes began to develop bags under them from the stress, and her parents looked at her as if she was possessed. It was during one of these days that her suitor once again had the horrible timing of coming around again, probably to pester her with his 'endearments'.

She was honestly tired of him at this point, hearing his earnest knock at the front door, easily able to from her room. She sighed, listening to her parents greet the man with such good cheer. She felt anything but happiness as she quickly once again hid the sketchings she was working on, before he could find them and berate her as he usually did. She tried her best to seem cordial as he came into her room, though she was currently feeling anything but.

"Hmm...?"

She blinked in his direction, confusion clear in her gaze. When had he moved to come beside her? The young woman shuddered as she felt a hand around her shoulder. She wasn't sure, only that something in the back of her mind told her that something was amiss. He wasn't usually this way with her, more used to his harsh barks and sharp touch as of late. Had something come over him, she wondered? Maybe, quite possibly, he had regret his behavior from earlier, she dared to hope. She only knew for sure that her gut feeling told her to be on guard.

"I am simply concerned for your health. You have been acting out of sorts lately; ever since our...disagreement. Your parents are worried as well. They also suggested it best for you to come with me."

Are you really? Or are you simply acting the part to save face? She thought, staring at his offered hand with a frown. He was partially right; she hadn't been feeling well the past week. Ever since she had woken up in her bed, to the concerned yet angry faces of her parents, on the day that he had hit her...something inside of her had felt amiss.

She didn't really love him, this man who she was set to marry. Before the incident, she had been resigned to the idea—though still inwardly opposed—knowing it would make her parents happy, and understanding that she really had no true say in the matter. Who else would provide for her, after all, when her parents passed away? But now, she wanted less than nothing to do with this man, who had treated her so cruelly and told her her dreams were worth nothing at all. No, to subject herself to that kind of life, even for her parents sake, was unthinkable to her now. She was not sure why she had even considered the thought. Maybe...maybe if he hadn't shown her his true feelings, using the veneer he wore now to keep up appearances, she might have went through with it. And ruined her chance at happiness, she knew now.

Still, she took his hand, knowing that to not do so would make him simply become more insistent in his efforts; something she neither had the desire nor energy to fight off at the moment. It was with a heavy heart that she followed after him, once more abandoning her work as he lead her out of her room and into the entranceway beyond. She noticed her parents then as they approached the open door, staring at her worriedly and felt a surge of guilt rise up in her stomach then. She hoped she hadn't become too much trouble for them; she knew she was difficult to deal with as it was, and that these recent matters had only made things worse for them. Maybe if she went along with this, it would temper their worries somewhat—at least that was what she prayed would happen.

It only took him a moment to escort her out of the house, where she noticed several other villagers following them on their trek. They went far, past the village square and along the path that led to the church. This worried her, as the church was often used for meetings and other important things, when it wasn't being held for worship. She was led inside, the door closed behind her as they began to surround her, her suitor at the front of it all. She swore she saw something at the edge of her vision, a blur in the opaque stained glass windows that lit up the room. A figure, almost humanoid in appearance. But she had little time to reflect on it, as the villagers began bombarding her with questions and accusations. What she remembered from the incident, any spotty patches in her memory. Her suitor was at the forefront of most of these enquiries, berating her every time for running off, anger clear in his chiseled face.

Her memory was faint—which she admitted to the men—but she recalled the sensation of being held by something, and it was not him. She was able to notice him running off, before her consciousness had fully left her, yelling at the thing that had scared them out of their wits to simply take her and be done with it. Whatever had held her was hard, yet oddly warm, cradling her petite body with gentle care. Something she doubted he was capable of. He never really treated her with the amount of respect she felt she deserved whenever they went out, today included.

"None of you came upon her in the woods? Not a one?"

The villagers nodded, which made her even more confused and worried. Then what had she felt in her dream? Whose hand had so carefully caressed her face, her tangled hair? She wasn't sure now, and the thought made her heart race with excitement and a touch of fear. Had something come to spirit her away in the woods that night? If it was a spirit, then why return her home, if that was the case? She was confused, and barely heard his next accusation until he was right up in her face, finger pointing at her nose.

"The last thing you remember is fainting?"

"I...I...Well, yes. I heard that—awful noise, watched you...run off, and everything—went black."

He seemed to stiffen at her answer, face blanching as he moved away from her to once again be in the crowd. Yet his accusations continued, voice harsh as he regarded her once more.

"You were brought back by the spirits that haunt those woods!"

She couldn't deny that claim. Not that they would take her word for it if she did. She wondered if it was partially because she had let it slip of his cowardice. He was a vain man, from what interactions they had together. Always wanting to be addressed by his full title, constantly reminding her of her status as a low born commoner. How lucky she was to have been chosen by him; she certainly didn't feel it now. Why had he chosen her, she wondered most of the time she was alone? Simply for him to have someone he could constantly berate and put down?

She was a troublemaker; at least in their eyes. So she simply sat there, letting their baseless accusations stand, though she did try to convince them otherwise before she grew tired of it all.

"I'm not—"

"You simply need listen—"

Each time she was cut off, each time by one of the villagers who surrounded her. She stared dismally at her feet then, spirit now eroded completely as all of them continued their diatribe against her. Finally when it seemed to be over, they did bring out an older gentleman who was dressed in what she could only assume was an outfit of the clergy. The man simply walked around her, though he did look into her eyes once or twice, gaze piercing her as he did so.

"Quite the rebellious one, aren't you child? It's possible she is possessed by something; it's too early to tell. It might be best to watch her, in case she acts up again."

"You see nothing? But you say the signs are possibly there?"

Her suitor barks out, which have started her if she had the energy for it. Then again, the nobles and clergy were oft intertwined. He probably had more experience with men such as these, so he was more lax around them than most folk. It was the only way she could describe his brazen attitude towards the old man.

"Simply just a tired young woman. And you say you were accosted by spirits, young man? What about you?"

"Are you suggesting I'm the one who has been possessed? Nonsense! Someone get this old fool out of here; he's a heretic!"

Her suitor and a couple of the other villagers seemed anxious. They argued with the man for some time, yet he simply stood his ground, telling them over and over she was just tired. And that this was a product of that and her overactive imagination. But, they could not go against the man's word, lest they look like the fool. Soon enough, they relented in their accusations, dispersing as quickly as they had assembled. With that she found herself being dragged once again, by her suitors rough hand as he lead her back home, which gave her some time to gather her thoughts.

She was grateful for that small reprieve at least.

She was lucky, she supposed, that the holy man they had sent in hadn't really seen anything wrong with her. Just tired, he told them, and in need of a good few nights sleep. Maybe with a handful of passages from the book, to supplement the teachings so they stick in her mind. She should be kept on a watch during the day, and some nights, just to be safe. And to draw less, lest her overactive imagination stir things up again. She was disappointed at the sentence but at least she wasn't being committed. She thanked herself for that small mercy. She would simply bide her time, as best she was able. She felt restless cooped in the house as she was.

It wasn't long before she found herself at the front door of her home, the sun soon edging over the horizon to give everything an orange glow. It must have taken them some time to interrogate her, she realized, as it had been close to midday went they set out. She half listened, in a daze of sorts, as he told them of what had transpired in the town church. Then he left her, as quickly as he had came, but not before her parents began to berate her once again. How foolish she was to go off into the woods alone, how lucky she was that the holy man had let her off; things she had all heard before. This time they just simply at a much higher volume. Her parents followed her up to her room, which distressed and confused her, but not before she understood what was happening. She nearly yelled aloud as she watched him rifle through her belongings, the man yelling as her mother watched helplessly in the background. She didn't blame the poor woman, understanding what happened when her father became angry.

"Enough of this! You are ruining everything! Damn these papers; 'creativity', pffft!"

"F-father! W-why…"

A cry escaped her lips as her father found her drawings—thankfully not all of them—and began to rip them to pieces. All of her hard work, scattering before her eyes, and she could do nothing about it. It hurt, to see them disregarded so; it pained her so much that she felt her chest might burst!

"You...stay in your room and do not leave it! We will discuss things in the morning, once I am of a clearer mind."

After they left, taking her drawing implements with them—along with other things she had used to occupy her time—she simply stood there for a few moments, shocked and stunned into silence. So this was to be her life now? Stuck in her room as she was, unable to do anything but study and to marry a man whom she hated with all her being? It was unfair, she mentally protested, completely unfair! The young woman quietly walked over to her bed then, ignoring the small droplets of tears that fell from her eyes as she buried her face into her pillow. She wanted to look at the bright side of things, but she simply could not. So she lay there, sobbing quietly so as not to disturb anyone—it was not as if they would care for her plight!

Little did she know of the one 'person' who did care, his thin frame leaning against the outside of the house worriedly…

He felt his rib cage shake as he heard her sob, the pitiful noises reaching him from where he hid. After being unable to see most of what was going on, Jack had simply decided to continue his observations, following the pair after they had gone home, worried as he was for the poor woman's sake. He was partially glad he had now, for he knew things had been worse than he had hoped. The other part of him was distraught, hearing her cries in the night, his chest tightening as he heard her voice softly speak.

"I think I'd rather be haunted than have to deal with that insufferable man...Hes ruining everything, damn him! All because he sees me as something to own. Hahaha, maybe it was a guardian spirit of sorts, since it chased that awful fool away? Oh, part of me wishes it had stolen me away from here! Maybe death would be better than this wretched existence!"

She laughed dismally at that, which made him slightly confused; what exactly was funny about this? Yet he couldn't deny the stirrings in his lanky frame; making his phantom heart stirr against his rib cage. This was certainly no better than hearing her wretched sobs from earlier, and he still felt concerned for her. She sighed then, a wistful noise that was soon overtaken by the sound of shuffling, then by the soft sounds of breathing. She had fallen asleep—hopefully without nightmares this time. He waited to make sure, though he heard her shuffle about in her sheets every so often, before he too left the young woman to sleep fitfully, concern blossoming once again in his chest as he went...

Thinking she was safe enough, at least for the time being, the skeleton once again diverted his attention from her to focus on the townsfolk and other inhabitants. Still, his mind was buzzing with ideas, the last few words she had uttered swimming around in his mind over the next few days as he went on his rounds of the place.

A guardian spirit? He really wasn't sure what the young woman was talking about. She seemed content with the idea however; and it was not like he could simply tell her otherwise. Trying to catch her attention now—at all, really—was not a good idea. Humans were wary when it came to demons and ghosts, the tales they told often depicting them in a harsh light. He really didn't want to drive her away.

Though he was conflicted; how was she doing lately? Well enough, he hoped, after that interaction he last witnessed. He had few times to check up on her as it was, though he received a general idea from what he heard amongst the townsfolk. She was kept locked in her house, more than before, and he rarely heard or saw her. Though he did manage to notice her sneak out once or twice, usually in the middle of the night, using the window from her room as an escape route. She never went far on such nights, thankfully where he could watch her from his perch as a scarecrow, and simply sat for a while. Or looked at the scenery before her, probably with the same intent as he often had; to drum up new ideas and thoughts, become lost inside her own mind, as he sometimes did.

Rumors really were being made quite easily about the poor girl and her family; he was worried as to why things had seemed to get worse, not better, after the holy man had arrived. And he wasn't sure what to think of it. The townsfolk avoided her in equal measure, giving her the same harsh looks and glares as before, maybe more so since the priests intervention. Were they still worried she unearthed something when she had went into the woods? Did a spirit decide to follow her home, enticed by her strange aura and mannerisms?

Well, he wouldn't say enticed; curious was probably a better way to describe how he felt about the young woman. She seemed a tad stubborn, though it was hard to notice underneath her shy exterior, and he admired her. She had a hidden passion and drive, squashed though it was, which was more he could say for his pathetic self recently. He really hoped things went well for her, not for any 'feelings' he might have had, but because it was simply the right thing to do. At least, he wasn't sure if he had any feelings toward the young woman. He barely knew her—even though he had watched over her for the last week or so, yet felt oddly protective over her. Possibly because the whole ordeal was partially his own fault, escalating things in his foolish attempt to help as he had done. So maybe he did have 'feelings' for her; what exactly they were he couldn't say, but he couldn't just leave her be!

He was dreadfully worried as to what was happening with her, too. So when he saw her one night, from his vantage point in the field nearby, her eyes stained with tears and clothing ruffled and messy with straw, he knew something was quite wrong...


	8. Secret Confessions

Still, he found that his chest ached the more he simply stood there, her cries reaching to him from the field where he was. He felt an urge to go to her then, to wipe the tears running down her face and tell her it would get better, tell her he was there for her. But he knew he could not; it was the rules, after all. An undead such as himself could not—should not—interact with the human world. He understood why that rule had been put into place, after seeing what had happened almost two weeks ago. He didn't want to cause her more trouble, already feeling guilty for what she had endured thus far because of his 'help'. Yet the nagging feeling in his chest persisted, the pain spreading through his ribs and into his heart, making him question those so called rules in the first place. Was it worth it? He simply couldn't stand seeing her so despondent, though he wasn't exactly sure why. Simply because he never wanted to see anyone around him be sad or cry, he reasoned.

So he watched her kneel in the dirt, hands clenching and unclenching at the hem of her dress, terrible yet quiet wails erupting out of her mouth. That thankfully stopped soon, her head now leaning downwards to look at the ground, tears falling into her slightly torn hem. He noticed her fingers had begun to dig into the dirt, leaving small trails behind as her skin began to become covered in mud.

"Why? Why…?"

She plead, quietly, seemingly to nothing. The monarch was conflicted; wanting to comfort her, understanding her pain as if it was his own. She was trapped, much like he was, though he felt her situation was much worse. He did not want to scare her however, and so stayed silent, though he felt his arm move towards her prone figure just a fraction.

"Oh, why must I be forced to live like this? A prisoner in my own home, my parents suspicious of me and everything I do!"

She sobbed again, another horrible yet quiet wail escaping her mouth as her head leaned upwards towards the night sky. His heart wrenched in pain at seeing her face, contorted in grief as it was. She soon continued her rant, this time standing up slightly and walking closer towards him, though of course she did not know it.

"The townsfolk see me as a freak, and my so called fiance simply wishes to use me as a toy. He does not see me as a person, simply entertainment—a slave for his obscene desires, and another set of hands to work his estate!"

He felt himself lurch forward then, hand outstretched in an odd attempt to reach out towards her moping form. When had he jolted forward so? Had her words done that to him? Had he redistributed his weight on the pole improperly? He wasn't sure, but knew that it was a bad idea to move. A soft curse escaped his lips as he saw the ground rise up to meet him suddenly, his bones rattling slightly as they collided with the ground. Even though parts of it were covered in vegetation, it was still hard dirt underneath, thanks to the slow change of the seasons, and it was painful for the skeleton. He didn't even think of trying to move and right himself, with her so close nearby. What if she saw? What if his ruse finally came to light? What if she called him a monster?

Well—he tried to focus on the problem at hand, at least the pumpkin covering his skull wasn't damaged from the fall. He was worried it might, considering the impact felt quite harsh, and reveal his true form. Part of him wondered if she would scream if she saw him as he really was, like she had before. It made his chest ache, imagining her reaction; one of fearful screams and tears. Which he found a tad odd; he usually delighted in the terror he brought upon others. Then again, this poor soul had been through enough in the last two weeks and to scare her further would be cruel, Jack reasoning that was why he felt the way he did.

Her head turned his way then, fear clear in her widened orbs as she stared at his prone form. A hand went up to her mouth then, shaking as she squinted towards him in the dark of night. Of course; she could barely make him out with her poor sight. It's possible she thought he was someone who seemed to harm her or being her back home. Which was far from the truth; if only he could reveal himself and tell her! But that would be wrong, part of him argued. She needs to know someone is looking out for her...He internally argues with himself, not noticing her small footsteps that brought her ever so closer. A soft word escaped her then, confusion clear on her face.

"Huh? A scarecrow?"

Good. She thought he was simply a regular scarecrow. What surprised him was when she cautiously walked up to his prone body, crouching down with a sad smile on her face. He felt his own dead heart speed up at her proximity to him, her nose nearly touching the pumpkin that covered his skull from view.

"Now, how did this happen? That's no good…"

He could feel and smell her breath as she spoke, through the holes he had carved to see out of, noticed the way the pumpkin shook a bit under her touch. He was glad he had no need for oxygen, or lungs, for he knew if he had them his ragged breathing would have given him away just then. Yet why? Why was he reacting in this way? He had never really felt anything like it before and it confused him. He would have to examine this feeling and his reactions later however, as he was brought out of his contemplations by the feeling of her hands gripping the cloth covering his suit, turning him over so that he could look at the night sky—and her concerned face.

"Ah, yes...This is that old couple's farm...I often helped them some days when I was a child. This would be difficult for either of them to do on their own, seeing as you're so tall and large. Since I am trespassing in a way, I suppose the least I can do is set you back up properly. Wouldn't you say?"

He didn't respond, couldn't respond as he was too worried about her seeing through his deception. How Jack wondered what her reaction would be if she knew exactly what she was holding so tenderly! She then carefully straddled his prone form on her knees, before lifting him up with a small grunt of effort. It was similar to how he had carried her back home, and the irony of it nearly made him laugh. He was glad no one else could see this, and thankful that it only lasted for a few moments. Though the touch of her hands did not stray from their original position on the small of his back and behind his knees, he still felt as if an electric shock coursed through him, making his spine tingle and phantom heart race horribly fast.

It wasn't as if she knew; to her eyes, she was simply putting the scarecrow back up on its post. He would have chuckled, were she not still right next to him, her arms gently smoothing out the creases on his clothing, suppressing another shudder that coursed through his bones. She stepped back, appraising her work with a hand cupped to her chin, a smile on her face. He felt his stitched mouth also spilt into a smile, though for a completely different reason, as he met her gaze for the barest fraction of a second. She didn't seem to notice, brown eyes busy roaming down his prone form splayed on the post, which he was both thankful for and yet embarrassed.

"There we go. Hmmm, yes. You look much more presentable now. Handsome, even!"

A hearty laugh escaped her then, like the heavy chimes of a church bell—though it was slightly self-deprecating—and he found the sound enchanting.

"Oh, what an ordeal I have been through! If you don't mind, perhaps I may bore you with the details? Hahaha…"

She sighed then, sitting down next to him, hands fluttering at the air as she talked to nothing. Or so she thought. The skeleton listened intently as she spun her tale, some of which he already knew. Every so often she would stop, to look at the ground and twiddle her hands together, seemingly bashful for some reason before she started talking again. Her voice was quiet, barely audible to a human, but he listened all the same, desperate for some attention. Even though he knew she wasn't really talking to him, per say.

"It's not as if I don't want to marry…I simply… Don't want to marry him! Then again, it's not like the other 'gentlemen' my parents tried to match me with were much better...But damnable Rowland; he has a way of deceiving others with his wit and sharp tongue."

Ah, so he could finally place a name to the bastard who was troubling her so! He made a mental note to remember that name—not that he would forget it any time soon—and listened to her continue to talk, enjoying the sound of her voice.

"I just want to live my life and be happy, is that so much to ask! I may not be a good artist but it is one of the few things I enjoy, and they've taken it from me, calling me insane! How else can I vent if not through paper and ink! Words would be too suspicious; but drawings—those are much harder for the average person to parse. Now I have nothing, no one! Damn that Rowland Keogh to the lowest plane of Hell!"

A sound almost similar to a frustrated sob left her lips then as she finished her tale, and again he felt his chest ache. She certainly was fiery when she wanted to be! He liked her for that, her inner passion, sad that she had to keep it so hidden from those around her. They simply didn't get it—a notion Jack understood much too well. She made a anguished noise then, before turning to him, her face looking as if she was somewhere between exasperated and about to break into tears once more.

"...What am I doing? Confiding in a straw made man, of all things! If anyone could see me, they'd call me a loon! Still…it is rather nice to speak aloud, where my parents can't overhear, even if I am simply talking to myself…"

He felt his hand twitch then, an impulse to touch her shoulder running through him. To brush a hand through her hair, against her cheek, on her shoulder. But he knew he could not, lest he frighten her again or worse—if someone suddenly came upon them and saw her, they would think her mad. He wanted her to know she had someone to support her, even if he could not actually be there. At least a small show of support, affection, something to tell her he was there for her. For it was all he could do for her right now. He felt her turn around then, panic flashing through him as he noticed one of his clawed fingers somehow embedded in her tangled locks. When...How!? She tugged at his hand, glasses reflecting the light of the moon as she used her own fingers to pry his off of her hair. She gazed at his pumpkin head curiously, tapping the top of the gourd with her dirt covered finger before smiling and letting out a small sigh.

"I must be delusional...You're simply a scarecrow, nothing more. Though part of me wants to imagine that you actually had the autonomy to touch me...How starved for companionship am I? Maybe they are right; I do have an overactive imagination…"

Part of him wanted to laugh, her words reaching his phantom heart. He too, had often longed for the gentle touch of another. Someone who would simply listen to his woes, offer a comforting hand when he needed. Quite unlike many of his citizens, who saw him as a king before they did a person. Even though he loved them dearly, no matter how they saw him. But it wasn't the same; not the true companionship he needed, longed for dearly. For as much as they loved him, they did not love him—Jack, the lonely monarch of Halloween. How many times had he tried to make friends with some of them, only for them to use him and his position for their own ends? Most of the time it was because of sheer ignorance on their part, which he quickly forgave them for, but other times it was truly malicious.

He tilted his head at her words, as if to tell her he was listening. She seemed to find this humorous, as a chuckle escaped her, one of her hands moving up to reach and grab his head, gently moving the gourd back into place on his neck—what she probably assumed was the pole. He resisted the urge to lean into her touch, though he knew she'd think nothing of it. Simply a trick of the wind, or the shoddy construction of his support, she'd assume. He was a gentleman after all; as touch starved as he had become over the past two weeks. He missed Zero, his only true companion and being he could talk to. More so in the human world, where he had to constantly stay hidden and unseen, to not draw attention to himself. And it was dreadfully cold out here, even with the extra layer of clothes and straw insulating his bones as it were. Suffice to say, he understood that he was horribly lonely at the moment. Her odd kindness had only magnified the feelings inside him, to the point where he wanted to cry himself—for both his predicament and her own. He held back his tears then, despite feeling the pricking of heat at the corners of his empty sockets.

He felt her hand press against the front of his chest, through the second layer of clothing he was wearing and straw that cushioned his bones. It stayed there for a moment, before it trailed down partially to the area where his rib cage ended and spine was left exposed. His phantom heart sped up at that moment, wanting her to stay where she was. Her warm touch left him then, leaving that part of him to once again grow cold as the night wind caressed his chest. The look she gave him was oddly longing, as if she did not wish to leave, her lashes fluttering beneath her lenses as her large, tired eyes unknowingly locked onto his empty sockets as she stared into the holes he had made for eyes.

"Well, my little friend, I must leave you now. I promise to try and visit you some other time; the view of the village from here is beautiful after all. Oh, if only I had my sketching materials!"

She turned on her heel then, but not before offering him a sad smile, one that nearly made him try to reach out to her once more. For he could see the hidden sadness in her gaze, the pain she was trying so hard to conceal. He had been doing the same thing now for so long, putting on a brave face for everyone around him, he could easily tell. But he did not, his heart aching as he watched her fade away Into the darkness, her shoulders slumped defeatedly as she trudged back towards her home. He felt hot tears trickle down his skull then, falling onto the collar of his shirt and tie. He quietly sobbed for a few moments, simply letting the tears fall, as he wasn't sure if she wa still within hearing distance.

I can't simply keep watching this anymore...He thought, waiting until he was sure she had left before he wiggled off of the pole holding him upright. Jack easily put the parts of the scarecrow back together, having become so used to the action by now. It was as if he had never used it, the only real evidence being his own straw covered bones. The monarch rubbed his empty sockets, and tried to ignore the odd itch as he pulled some loose strands of straw out of his bones. He carefully brushed the few strands of straw still stuck to his black suit, wanting to seem at least somewhat presentable as if he hadn't been standing out in a field all day—before once again following after her, despite the voice in his head telling him this was a horrible idea. He didn't care; he pushed the thought away, his aching heart urging him onward through the darkness...

He had an obligation to see this through to the end, he thought. He didn't fancy creeping into the house, despite the many times he had done so before to scare humans. This was different; or so he told himself. He was concerned and curious about the poor woman's situation. Besides, he had been able to find a few of her drawings from when she has ran into the forest initially, and they piqued his curiosity about her. He had wanted to return them sooner, but the time had not been right, he felt, what with everything going on. She could use a small pick me up—or so he thought—and hoped that seeing her drawings preserved would lift her spirits at least a bit. She certainly was a good artist, damn what her betrothed said, and he wanted to return them to their proper owner.

So he waited, the moon slowly rising in the sky once more, until he was sure everyone in the house was fast asleep, before creeping his way inside through the barely open window near the kitchen, prying it open with his thin fingers. He was curious, about her lifestyle and that of her parents, though something urged him to head for her room straightaway. He was careful not to make any noise as he walked, easily opening the door to her room without so much as a creak from the old wood.

She was asleep, snoring softly, though his gaze only lingered on her for a moment lest he feel guilty of ogling her. He focused on the details of the room itself; it was a simple space, filled with the necessities one would need in day to day life. Indeed most of the furniture he saw would not look too out of place on his own home; a dresser, vanity and a small writing desk which seemed to have been cleared off recently. He stalked over to the desk, curiosity compelling him to examine the many books laid across its top, opening one with the utmost care. He skimmed through the pages, long slender fingers pausing on certain words or phrases that caught his sockets. It seemed to be a guidebook or instruction manual of some sort; for proper manners and things of s similar nature. Part of him wondered why she would need something like this, she was already so beautiful to him—the thought made him stop in his tracks, feeling the marrow race in his bones and a strange heat creep up his skull. He closed the book, quickly putting it back on top of the others, albeit shakily. A loud slam made him jump, scaring the master of fright and making him turn toward the sleeping woman. She did not seem to notice the noise, nor anyone else in the house for that matter, so he turned back to the desk behind him.

He had accidentally knocked some books over in his excitement to put that one away, and in doing so had caused some papers to shift out of place on the desk. He looked at them, before shuffling through the papers and putting the ones he had brought into the pile, now much more interested in the sketches than some soppy old tome. It was an approximation of his form, Jack realized as he put a pointed finger against the paper, though the proportions were ridiculously exaggerated. His sockets were quite large, for one thing, alight with an eerie flame that outlined his tall body against the darkness. His hands were more sharpened than usual, twisted like branches, gnarled and reaching out to them from the darkness. His mouth was turned in a gruesome grin, teeth sharp and pointed, looking as if he was going to devour them both.

So, had she seen him? Nonetheless it was a frightening depiction, and part of him was compelled to keep the drawing. He was oddly flattered by it, his marrow rushing through his bones as he beheld the drawing; and yet part of him was still worried about how badly he scared her, for her to depict him in such a way, sockets flicking to her prone form as she lay sleeping. She looked decent enough, though her cheeks were stained with tears from crying earlier, and the bruise on her face was healing nicely. He gave in to the temptation to get closer, walking to the side of her bed as quietly as he was able.

She had not moved this whole time, softy snoring as she clutched her blankets. He found it quite cute, the way her face looked without her glasses, her soft lips pursed together and how the moonlight from her window splayed across her tan skin. Part of him felt a tad guilty at what he was doing, though the racing of his heart and rattling of his bones betrayed his true feelings. He knelt closer to her side then, hand trembling as he brought it closer to her face. A bony thumb gently caressed her bruised cheek, dipping down to follow the indent of her jaw and tip of her chin. Her skin was so soft, and warm compared to his cold bones from being out in the cold all night, it was mesmerizing to him. She let out a tiny moan then, lips prying open slightly as his heart beat furiously against his rib cage. Worried that he had caused her pain, or possibly woken her, he froze on the spot, ready to face the consequences for his actions. She did not stir any further however, her breathing soon become steady once again as her body turned away from him. Understanding that his time was up, the lanky skeleton quickly retreated from her side, though not before whispering quietly to her.

"...I'm sorry. I've caused you so much trouble simply by being here, my damnable curiosity... You won't suffer anymore because of me. I swear it…"

Steeling himself, he took a quick look at her desk and the papers he had placed there only minutes ago. No...I shouldn't get involved any more. But why not? I've taken it this far...Besides, the poor thing needs to know someone is watching out for her. And get her into more trouble? No! No, I just...He fought within himself, hands clasped on his skull as if he was in pain. After a minute he finally made up his mind, walking over to the desk and grabbing a pen, despite the voices in the back of his head screaming at him at how awful of an idea this was.

He took one of her drawings, one of his favorites of the pile he had found—the one showing the forest trees in a black and white splendor—before flipping the paper over so it was blank. He began to write, using his sight to his advantage, ignoring the hammering of his phantom heart against his rib cage. After looking it over, and pocketing the sketch she had made of him in his suit, Jack carefully put the pen back in its place.

He let out a tired sigh, but understood what was done was done. He had chosen this path—his actions had already damaged her enough—and was not going to back out anymore. The least he could do was look out for her, if she wanted it to accept his help. But why would she? The skeleton quickly and carefully made his way back to the door in her room, though not before giving the young woman one last longing glance before shutting it closed with the tiniest of slams...


	9. A Desperate Plea Part One

She awoke, her heart pounding and sweat dripping down her forehead. All she could remember was fragments, and the ghostly lingering touch of another on her face. It was another odd dream, in which she was walking through a fog, the feeling of being watched creeping up her spine, before she was caught off guard by a figure in the shadows. It was not some stranger however, but her fiance, scaring her with a horrible noise and causing her to fall onto the ground, all while looking like a hideous monster about to devour her whole as he lept atop her. His face was twisted as he shouted at her; calling her a pig and a whore, tearing and ripping at her corset keeping her chest bound with the fury of a wild animal, against her screams of protest. The things he began to do next were unspeakable, yet thankfully she had awoken from the dream before it could continue to worsen. Maybe that explained the odd chill as she had sat up in her nightdress, or it was probably just from sleeping in her sheets wrong, she reasoned. All in all, it was a horrible dream and one she'd rather not experience again!

Just what kind of a dream was that? She wondered, trying to catch her breath as she looked around her room. She looked for something to ground herself, so she would not slip back into that horrible nightmare. Nothing looked wrong and yet...Confused, she sensed something was off, and her mind flashed back to the previous night. She had snuck out again, despite her parents wishes. It was only for a while, she reasoned, and for her to get some fresh air. And to vent, a small sigh escaping her lips as she remembered her tirade. Thankfully no one was around to witness it, aside from the scarecrow she had helped put right.

Had they possibly found out? No, but then why did something feel strange? She wasn't sure, looking around her room and finding nothing particularly striking or amiss. She sighed, rubbing her eyes as she sat up and slowly starting her routine for the morning. She had a meeting with her suitor again today and was not particularly fond of what was to transpire. Which was partially why she felt the need to sneak out last night, to get rid of all her pent up emotions before they could get her into any further trouble. Yet she wanted to please her parents, seeing as they were the only people who looked after her, and so she tried her best to look presentable for the man they saw suitable to be her husband...

He was as pompous as ever when he greeted her later that day, kissing her hand and acting all the part of the gentleman before leering at her behind her back. She could feel his eyes boring into her backside, seeing her simply as a piece of meat and nothing more. Part of her wondered if her dream was a warning of this, his uncouth behavior that he tried so easily to hide. This continued throughout the day, the voices in her head were screaming that he didn't deserve her; yelling that she fight off his invasive touch and horrible words. But she could not; not unless she wanted the whole town involved again. For that is what her family would do, short tempered with her as they were lately; raise a fuss and holler at her, calling the priest to exorcise her of whatever 'demons' possessed her. So she endured the torture, the fake compliments, unwanted touches and advances towards her, smiling on the outside while on the inside she screamed, and cried, and wished to be somewhere, anywhere but where she was currently.

It felt like years before the day was over, night slowly blanketing the small village, Rowland harassing her one last time before she left by whispering what he supposed were 'sweet nothings' in her ear. She thought they were anything but, his compliments making her stomach churn as the pair were walking home. Finally he left her, but not before he bade her goodbye with an unwarranted kiss on her cheek, which she did her best to not smack him across the face for. She slipped into the house as best she could, lying to her parents about her outing to please them—saying it was fine and Rowland was 'wonderful' as always—wearing as neutral expression as she could manage. She slumped onto her bed, mentally and physically exhausted from the day she just had, pressing a hand to her aching forehead and resisting the urge to cry out in rage.

Now she understood, her fingers brushing up along something that wasn't the hard leather of her books. It was a familiar touch, and scent too—that of lead on paper. She would know the indents and markings anywhere; it was one of her sketches! But how? She didn't understand, hadn't her father and fiancé destroyed all of them!? And her drawing materials were locked up as well, it's not as if she could simply procure new ones without them knowing. But then how had this gotten here? She picked it up curiously, examining the drawing with rapt attention. It was one of her less liked pieces—she thought it nothing special at least—the simple backdrop of a forest done in pencil.

She felt something on the back of the paper, as she looked over the piece, confusing her for a moment. Had she drawn on the back of the paper too? Possibly, it had been a while since she had looked at this. Wait...this was one of the ones that had been lost in the forest—when her awful fiance had scattered them in his rage. IStill, she curiously turned the paper around, a small gasp escaping her as she saw words adorn the page, a flowing cursive that was unfamiliar to her poor eyes. It certainly wasn't her parents or suitor, having become used to their scrawl by now when they had written her letters or lists of chores to do. Feeling her heart leap out of her chest, she scanned the document carefully, having to squint and put the document to her nose to read the scrawled tiny letters, taking in every word.

Dear Ms.Keatings,

I do hope this message sees you well. As it stands, I was hesitant to write this letter, but could contain my growing concern for you no longer. You cannot know me, as desperate as I am to meet you, but our paths cannot cross—I care for you too much to see you harmed further because of my selfish whims. I simply wished to express my concern for you, seeing as you are going through the most difficult time right now.

Please do not be alarmed, as I had found this sketch and wanted to return it to its rightful owner. It is such a beautiful and under appreciated work, after all—much like its creator. As loathe as I am to admit it, I came upon your squabble with your supposed 'suitor' while I was out for a walk one night. It sickens me, the way he treated a young woman such as yourself, and yet I can do nothing to help you! Any help I may try to offer, I fear will only make your situation worse! I do not wish such things upon you, yet my heart yearns to be at your side, to protect you from this hardship you are currently facing. Please do try to hope that things will improve, and know that I will watch over you for as long as I am able.

Your Spirit Guardian

She stared at the last line, her heart close to bursting out of her chest from the kind words and yet uncertainty she felt. But who sent it? Who had been so kind as to go back into those haunted woods and retrieve something as unimportant as a sketch simply for her? And this talk of a guardian...That piqued her curiosity; was she right in assuming she had a friend somewhere? Someone who wanted the best for her, who actually cared for her?

Going by the tone of the letter, which made her palms shake and heart race furiously, it certainly seemed so. She was not used to such kind words, cryptic as they were, and they made her feel something she had not felt in quite a long time. It blossomed in her chest, a painful warmth that soon caused a dull ache, and she felt the onset of tears start to form at the edges of her eyes. Who was this kind person, who seemed to care so much for her? They had retrieved her sketch after all, and she was quite grateful for it. But the mention of the word spirit had her slightly on edge, her memory flashing back to what she had seen in the woods. It had scared her at the time, with it's sudden appearance in the dark and the way it jumped out at them, the loud noise it had made still echoing in her mind.

Yet if it was the same spirit which had probably carried her back home, and sent this letter, then maybe it could be trusted. Or it was a ruse, luring her with kind words and false intent so she could be spirited away. Part of her didn't really care, even welcoming oblivion when compared to the life she was to have with her suitor, a man who cared so little for her she might as well be dirt at the side of the road.

She had to be possessed or haunted, she told herself. That was it. It was the only way she could explain the strange happenings around her. Maybe she was insane; maybe she did harbor an overactive imagination. But she didn't care. Anything had to be better than what she was going through at the moment. And why not then go looking for the thing that had so attached itself to her? Maybe she could talk to it? Whatever it was certainly seemed to be willing to talk with her, if the letter it wrote was any indication and she wanted to speak with it too.

Besides, it's not like the townsfolk or her parents would think any stranger of her for doing so! Not that she would be foolish enough for them to know what she was planning. The last thing she needed was to be caught, seen as crazy and then committed to the asylum! Which she had no doubt they would if they found this letter, or at the very least rip it up. So she carefully tucked it in a compartment of her desk, hiding it very carefully among other non noteworthy items. She left it face up, so that anyone who found it would think it was simply another one of her drawings; most people would not think to turn it over, would they, she reasoned.

What struck her as most curious was the author's mentions of the two of them never being able to meet. She assumed it was because of their dubious nature as a spirit, which made her interested. Most otherworldly things did not see humans as much of note, yet this one had specifically called out for her. Though apparently they wished to desperately; the young woman also feeling an odd compulsion to find whomever had written this heartfelt letter. It was an odd confession of sorts, she did admit and yet she treasured it dearly, more so with everything going on right now.

So she decided; she would sneak into the woods again, in the dead of night and hope she may stumble upon the author of said letter. At the very least, she could write her own reply to their words and leave for them to find. It's not as if a human would go that far out into the woods, so the chances of anyone else finding it were slim at best. Maybe she might even receive a reply, some insane part of her hoped; another heartfelt letter like this one. Or if she wasn't so lucky, a wolf or some other predator might come along and make her out to be a tasty meal. Certainly better than being a slave to Rowland's whims and the authority of her parents, she figured. Whichever it was, she was set in her idea; already taking pen to paper and putting her own thoughts to mind.

It wasn't long before she finished her work, putting the pen back into the ink receptacle and blowing on the paper to make it dry faster. She examined the letter quickly, sure it said exactly what was on her mind and stuffed it into her corset, wincing slightly as the paper wedged in between her breasts. It wasn't exactly comfortable but she had no real pockets to speak of, and if she dropped it that would be no good; at least here it was safe and secure, away from prying eyes that might question her. Looking outside her window, she watched the waxing moon rise in the night sky, it's soft light illuminating the ground below.

She carefully walked to the end of her room, more determined than ever, and attempted to open her door. Panic and surprise flashed through her as she felt the doorknob stick into place; they had locked her door from the outside? She swore, going back to the window with a twinge of fear in her heart. It was the only real choice she had; waiting until the daytime was out of the question as she would be watched by her parents or suitor, and not allowed to leave the house.

She looked down at the hard ground, fear making her stop for a moment. Just what are you thinking? All for some idiotic idea that someone actually fancies you? It might be a trap, and what if it is a ghost? Doubts shuffled through her mind, her eyes squeezed shut as she considered what her rational mind was telling her. She remembered the tender words of the letter then, wishing her goodwill and hoping to meet her with the utmost respect. So unlike anything she had been witness to before. She leapt, her skirts billowing in the wind as the air filled her ears, landing harshly in the ground with a thud. Pain erupted through her legs then, a sharp, sudden pain that nearly made her cry out as tears flooded her vision.

The house was quiet thankfully, her parents already asleep, and her fiancé had not deigned to watch over her this night, possibly still chuffed over her somewhat indifferent treatment of him this afternoon at their meeting. Checking to make sure nothing was sprained or broken, though she was no doctor, she continued onward, determination steadying her onwards. She had trouble seeing the path in front of her in the darkness, stumbling a few times on the uneven ground and catching herself with her hands lest she fall, but she trudged onward, despite the cold wind whipping at her skirts and chilling her skin.


	10. Meeting

**Part of me wanted to wait, but the other was screaming to give this to you. I hope you enjoy! And maybe a while before updates as I'm trying to think of what other of my wips to work on. Or I might continue with this, since it's seeming to be short compared to my other works.**

Jack was tired, carefully making his way back to the woods where he had hidden for so long. It was the best place for him to be, as humans did not often come by here so he was safe from prying eyes when he wasn't doing his usual rounds. Well—all humans but one—however she had not come anywhere near the forest since her fiancé had been with her. This made him worried and his thoughts wandered as he walked through the early night. Had she read his letter? He wondered what she thought of it, if she even deigned to respond. It had only been a day, after all, though part of him was hoping she had seen it. He laughed at his own thoughts; what was happening to him? So consumed by her were his thoughts lately, he hadn't even focused on the reason he had come here in the first place!

Admittedly the monarch did not truly want to return to the task at hand; his worsening depression, her plight slowly shifting his focus as the days went by. If only he could find a way to stem this displeasure; there had to be something he could do! Well, the thought of her smiling face and bright eyes certainly made him feel much better. But he could not be with her; it simply wasn't an option, as they were too different. Yet he yearned for her, wanting to caress her soft hair and hold her in his thin arms, and wanted her to be happy. But can you make her happy? He sighed, unsure of what to do, shuffling along the windy path and moving leaves in his wake. It was getting to be late; he would wager it was already October, and yet he had no real idea how to regain the passion he once held for his beloved Holiday. Or how to deal with his feelings for the human woman.

He had never really felt such apprehension before, possibly only when he was worried one of his Halloween tricks wouldn't go off as splendidly as he had hoped. But for the poor young woman he had begun to feel a gamut of things, one after the other, that worried him and concerned him. She really needed some help, and he was determined to fix her own horrible situation before settling on the task at hand! It was his duty as a king and gentleman, to see to it that a lady never be left in distress after all. Well, that was what he told himself, at least. To be honest, he was unsure about how to feel for the young woman, an odd mix of something erupting in his chest every time he thought of her pale face and spectacle wearing eyes. Burying his skull in his hands despondently, the skeleton made to sit on a stump he wandered across, tired and weary from thinking so much.

Feeling something poking at him from where he sat, he quickly stood up, examining the stump. Thanks to his excellent vision, he easily noticed the folded piece of paper as well as the scent coming from it. It was her; she had come by probably very recently to drop off this letter. But how had she known to put it here? She probably didn't, he mused, guessing she simply put it somewhere where it couldn't be blown away. He looked at the note with rapt curiosity, his hands trembling as he unfolded it, carefully pulling it out from where it was hidden inside the tree trunk. Again, he felt his rib cage nearly swell with something he could not name as it spread through his bones. Anxiety or apprehension, perhaps?

My dear Guardian,

When I received your letter, I was overcome with an emotion I cannot describe. No one, not even my fiancé, has spoken to me in such an adoring way before. Your kindness is refreshing to me, and I wish to know more about you. If it is possible, can we meet? I know you said that you cannot, but I would very much like to, just once! I do not need to see you; I wish to simply talk—tell you about my confusing and conflicting feelings. If you wish to do so, please meet me in the wheat field where a scarecrow looks out over the village. I shall wait for you. Please feel no pressure to respond to my desperate whims. I do hope you will appear; or show me some sign of your presence. Even if you do not, know that I still treasure the letter you sent me, a tiny light in this dark time of my life. Thank you for looking out for me as you have been.

Your Lonely Charge,

Emeline

He actually felt nervous, his phantom heart thudding against his ribs. She wished to meet him, and was probably waiting for him. This gave him a renewed burst of energy, imagining her smiling face as she finally beheld him, her dark eyes no longer plagued with despair, but something resembling happiness. She had also signed her name to the letter; and what a beautiful name it was! He found it certainly suited her, even saying it aloud a few times so far to get used to the sound of it on his tongue. It made him even more ashamed that he had missed her come by, busy watching over the general populace of the village as he had been that day.

He felt concerned, wondering if he should have maybe checked to see if she had made it to the spot safely. Well, there was still time—it was not that late out yet—if he ran he could probably make it despite how far out in the woods he was. He put the letter away, making sure to keep it somewhere it would not get damaged. He looked up at the night sky then, noticing the moon and how close it was to rising fully in the sky. A smile crossed his skull then; he was glad for that. He wanted to meet with her as soon as possible. And he dared hope she did as well.

With that thought in his mind, he ran as fast he could from the spot where he stood, praying he could make it. When he had finally reached the spot, he realized she was nowhere to be found. The skeleton was excited and partially worried he had gotten there before her; probably due to his superior sight and the fact that he was quickly becoming familiar with the terrain all round the village. He grinned in relief as he saw her figure soon emerge from the tree line, easily able to spot it from his perch.

At that moment, he realized maybe it was best for him to use the disguise he had donned while scouting out the village. Jack quickly set to work on stuffing himself inside the scarecrow, making sure all his otherworldly limbs and appendages were concealed with the cloth and straw that covered the scarecrow's exterior, though it was less well done than he would have liked. It would have to do however; he couldn't risk scaring the daylights out of the poor woman he so desperately wanted to meet! It wasn't long before she took her familiar place at the scarecrows side, and he felt his chest tighten at seeing her slightly despondent and worried face...

She was nervous as she slipped out of the shadows of the woods, being careful not to get any more of her clothes caught on branches or brambles that were in her way. Had the being possibly gotten her letter? She wasn't sure and part of her was calling herself foolish for even thinking up the idea in the first place. Doubts like these plagued her as she made her way to the assigned meeting place, ignoring the feeling of the cold night air as it nipped at her exposed skin. Oh, maybe I was a tad rash about this whole idea...Running off like that wasn't the best of plans, I admit. But to her at the time it had seemed to be the best option. Maybe she was just tired; her brain overworked and buzzing about with ideas that she really should have paid no mind. She shrugged, understanding that she was in too deep to simply turn back now. She might as well wait and see if the being would respond to her letter.

She simply stood there alone in the field, next to the scarecrow she had grown oddly comfortable with in the past few days, her heart pounding from anxiety and worry. What if she was simply delusional? There was no spirit, someone mean had simply written the letter and maybe a villager carried her back home, and she had gotten caught up in the villagers misinformed hysteria. She sighed, putting a hand to her face, muttering to herself forlornly.

"Oh, how insane I must seem, standing out here like this! Still, the spirit has to show up, it has to…! I will find it."

She felt a clawed hand touch her shoulder then, it's pointed fingers seeming to grab her and pull her closer towards the supposedly inanimate scarecrow. The sudden touch made her jump slightly, her knees starting to shake as a noise of fright escaped her lips. She swore she heard a soft chuckle then, from somewhere near her right ear, a breath tickling the back of her neck. Her heart nearly stopped as she understood what that meant; someone had followed her!

"You're not insane at all, my dear…"

The sound of a voice, deep and masculine like nothing she had heard before nearly made her jump again, so close to her ear that it was. She felt her body stiffen then, partially out of reflex. Attempting to take a few deep breaths to calm herself did little good, she found she was still startled by the being's sudden appearance. What if it was the spirit, waiting for her? No, it was probably one of the villagers tricking her into making a mistake. So they could see her gone from the village, locked up where she supposedly 'belonged' for not fitting in. Part of her wanted to believe it was the spirit, that it had been here all along, waiting for her to come back to this spot. The creature interrupted her thoughts before she could sort them out, it's voice sending a shiver down her spine as it talked. It was quite soothing, the way it calmly spoke, and she found its warm breath getting rid of the chill that was on her neck and part of her shoulder.

"Oh, I am terribly sorry! I just wanted to comfort you, and let you know where I was hiding without drawing too much attention...You've looked so forlorn every time I've seen you. It breaks my heart, knowing someone as kind and caring as yourself has been treated so horribly…"

She heard a deep sigh erupt from its mouth then, its hand slowly moving away from her shoulder to rest as its side once more. Despite herself she found she craved its touch, now cold from where it's warm appendage had been touching her body with utmost care. It was one of the first few times she had been touched in such an endearing way lately, and she wanted more of it. Yet it started to speak again before she could voice her thoughts, though she was still internally struggling whether to admit to such a thing or not in front of this strange being. If it was truly the spirit at all, though from what it had admitted she was inclined to believe it.

"I honestly didn't mean to scare you; are you quite alright?"

She heard the voice say again, still too absorbed in her own thoughts to respond, this time realizing it was coming from the large carved pumpkin that served as its head. It was a rich, deep sound, like velvet, comforting in its words, and she felt she could trust it, though a voice in the back of her mind was warning her against just that. What if the spirit was simply there to trick her, it warned? She didn't care, paying her doubts little mind, as she turned her head to try and face the spirit, wanting to see exactly who it was she was speaking with. It was indeed the pumpkin headed scarecrow, it's face carved into its usual grin as the large holes it had for eyes regarded her curiously. So it wasn't going to show itself to her. That was fine she supposed; most spirits did resort to trickery for their own safety. Humans could be crafty after all, and greedy, and so very cruel...It was simply protecting itself after all; and compared to the humans she had come across thus far in her life, this spirit was downright gentlemanly.

"Oh, no...I'm quite alright. I simply wasn't expecting you to be s-so nice or...caring…"

She hesitantly answered it, hinting at her true thoughts toward the being while trying to stay as polite as she was able. The figure titled its head at that, its other free hand seeming to point at its own straw like body.

"Haha, I see. Well, considering what horrible things have befallen you thus far, I do understand your skepticism…If you do not trust me, I take no real offense to it. I will gain your goodwill in time, if you would let me."

The scarecrow almost seemed to bow on the pole, it's midsection dropping down slightly as it's pumpkin head reached her shoulder level from where she was sitting. It stared at her, and she felt an impulse to stare back, locking into the carved holes it had for eyes.

"But please, miss, you have nothing to fear from me. Unlike your...suitor…I have no ulterior motives. I wish to simply talk and get to know you better, as we discussed in our letters."

"I can be quite frightening and—as silly as it sounds, I didn't want to scare you. My true form...seems to unsettle most humans I come across. So I used this disguise."

She nodded, understanding why it had to be cautious. She took a deep breath then, kneading her hands on her dress. The figure was patient with her, waiting for her to get her composure back in order before she spoke to it again.

"Well, since we are both here, I don't mind talking. You certainly seem cordial enough...What exactly did you have in mind?"

"Ah, well...Introductions are certainly important! In my haste I admit I had forgotten to give you my name. I am called Jack. Pleased to meet you properly!"

She nodded at it—well, his introduction, still truly not too sure of what to think. Part of her was wary of giving out her name; if this truly was a spirit or fae, then names held much power for them. Or at least that was what she understood. Well, it—maybe it was a he, going by the name he gave—had been honest with her this far, and he seemed quite kind, so she decided to be cordial and also comply. She stood up then, patting dirt off of her dress before bowing to the scarecrow—despite the odd lurch her stomach did as she felt her face flush slightly. Probably from the cold wind, she mused.

"N-nice to meet you as well, sir Jack! My name is...Emeline. I do hope that we might get along."

She noticed him shift a bit when she used the title, almost looking pensive or confused at her word choice. She simply blinked at the scarecrow, who gently took one of her hands in his talons, wrapping his long fingers around her skin. He was warm to the touch—possibly from being filled with straw— and she found that he was gentle despite having claw like hands, as they did not nick or poke the skin as they ran across her hand to stop at her wrist. The expression the pumpkin head gave her was almost pleading in nature as he locked eyes with her, and she swore she could see something inside the gourd that might have been his real head move.

"I'd like you to be comfortable when you're talking to me. Please, simply Jack will do. I would very much like to know you better as well—you seem quite interesting!"

Her skin tingled where he touched it, like an electric current running through her body. She felt him tug on her wrist softly, helping guide her down to the ground once more as he slipped off of the pole standing him upright so the pair could both sit comfortably, another one of his lanky arms wrapping around her shoulder. His touch was delicate—so unlike Rowland's—as if he feared he might break her for holding her too tightly, his claws barely ghosting along her shoulder blade. He was being considerate of her, she understood, not wanting to overstep his boundaries and it made something start to blossom in her chest; a feeling she was slowly growing more accustomed to as time went on. His hand left her as soon as she righted her dress on the ground, his head turned away while she smoothed out her hem, as if he was embarrassed. She took this time to speak, though she found her gaze never left the odd pumpkin wearing scarecrow.

"Well, you know I draw and enjoy taking small walks through the forest. Do you have anything of the sort that you enjoy doing?"

A clawed finger tapped against the pumpkin then, as if he was deep in thought. It took him a few moments before he replied.

"Hobbies, hmm? Well, I like to—how to put it—conduct scientific experiments in my free time. I love understanding how things work!"

She felt her heart skip a beat, noticing the change in his tone and uplift in his voice. Though she wasn't very scientifically minded herself—those things had always eluded her no matter how hard she tried to study them—she thought herself a logical person despite her artistic vision. So she could understand his excitement at finding out the ways the world worked. It was interesting to see what lay behind all the mundane things in life, what made them look or feel the way they did.

"Is that so? I would very much like to hear about them, if you would be inclined to tell me!"

"O-oh...are you certain!? Well...Sure! I was busy working on some particularly interesting ideas before I left to come here…"

She listened intently to him talk for a while about some experiments he had done recently; something about using pumpkins for materials, and another about the properties of...frogs? She wasn't sure if she had heard him correctly. The finer details were difficult for her to grasp, and some of the words unfamiliar to her, but the enthusiasm in Jack's voice and form were infectious, as she found herself nodding along with him as he spoke. She found herself drawn to the carved out holes that served as his eyes, gazing at them intently as he finished his explanation. It seemed as if he had not noticed the hard stare she was giving him until his words began to falter, locked her onto her own glasses wearing eyes as he did so.

"...It turned out quite well, all things considering! The frogs—they...erm...w-weren't harmed—oh, dear. I s-seem to have...lost my t-train of thought…"

She heard herself chuckle then, which only seemed to focus his attention her way. Despite her earlier hesitations, she found the scarecrow to be quite endearing—she understood now that Jack certainly wasn't a threat to her. No, though she understood he was probably still hiding things from her, for either her own protection or because of some rules she had yet to learn. Wanting to keep the conversation going, she put a finger to her chin, lost in thought before she turned back to her companion, who patiently waited for her to speak.

"So, how do you like our little village?"

"It is a quaint little place. Much like my own town! The people are certainly very lively, haha...I've become quite familiar with it over the last week or so!"

"I see...That's good. It is a nice place, if—well, recently things have…"

She stopped speaking then, her words becoming lost in her throat. She didn't want to burden him with her woes; she had just met him after all. Yet, Jack seemed to be the only, well 'person' she could confide in. Who would listen to her and take her opinions at face value. He seemed to sense her unease, a clawed hand stretching out to offer itself to her, which she gladly took, laying her palm gently in his. He spoke again, and she could sense his hesitation.

"...May I confess something to you? Please don't think me strange, but ever since I came across you and your...despicable fiancé in the forest having that fight, I have watched things unfold! And to say I am concerned about the direction they are taking is an understatement! I…—I've been concerned about your well being this whole time. The things you've gone through...I don't wish to see them repeated."

She was partially shocked at his revelation. Of course she knew he had been watching her; he had admitted to so much in his letter. But for him to openly admit this was a bit of a surprise to the young woman. Yet, she wasn't angry about it; possibly because he was simply worried for her well being. If she had come across what had occurred in the forest with her fiancé with another, she certainly would have tried to figure out what the issue was if she had the means to!

It was a matter of personal morality for her to not leave things alone, more so if people were being hurt by them. Even if she didn't know them that well, she simply couldn't sit and watch as malice befell them! She assumed it was the same with Jack, which made a small smile flit upon her lips then. Her free hand flew to her chest, and she could feel her heart beating rapidly, telling her something she was not ready to admit.

She then felt one of his hands grasp her own again, entwining his much larger fingers in hers. She didn't shy away from his touch, though she was a tad startled, and noticed he had moved closer to her in that time. She could reach out and touch the wiry fabric of his shirt if she wanted; and part of her considered it, wanting to feel his warmth again, even if it was simply because of the straw covering his body.

"I see...I am not mad, per say. Just confused. You don't know me, why do you care so much for me?"

He seemed to falter then, hand trembling underneath her own as it's grip loosened. If she knew any better, she'd probably say he was embarrassed! For that is what it seemed like to her, Jack's gangly limbs shuffling as he tried to position himself on the ground comfortably. One question stood out in her mind in particular. She asked it, chancing on the idea that he would be more receptive to answering now that he had revealed himself and his intent to her.

"So...the other day, when the scarecrow toppled over...That was you?"

She heard the figure inhale sharply then, making her own pulse quicken in her veins. It took him while to respond, Jack's form moving away from hers and out of her reach before his head twitched slightly. His voice wavered a bit, still deep and melodic but a twinge embarrassed. It was kind of adorable, she thought, if she wasn't so mortified herself. He seemed shy, despite his oddly extroverted personality.

"Ah, well…Yes. Yes, that was me. I was doing my cursory overlook of the village when I saw you...You were so sad, and lonely...I—simply didn't want to leave you be. But I knew I could not comfort you, for fear of scaring you again."

She thought back to that time, and felt her face flush horribly at the memory. Her hands had been all over the scarecrow's body, smoothing out its clothes and fixing the straw keeping it filled. The thought of her accidentally touching him in such a manner made her heart quicken in her chest, an odd feeling starting to form in the pit of her stomach that made her slightly queasy. She prayed he hadn't thought anything of it; the last she needed was for him to see her as some sort of pervert or deviant! Not to say that those types of thoughts weren't ever on her mind, but now was not the time or place for them. Especially considering Jack was a complete stranger to her, kind as he was.

"I—I'm sorry!"

She nearly yelled out the apology, hands grabbing onto one of his spindly limbs with a grip she did not know she possessed. He stared at her, pumpkin titled curiously before he seemed to realize just what she was referring to. A small chortle escaped the pumpkin then, making her feel slightly more ashamed of her earlier actions toward the scarecrow.

"Oh, don't be! Please, I understand you meant nothing untoward by it!"

Jack leaned against her then, though he was careful not to touch her too much as he stood, his gangly limbs slipping out of her touch and patting her shoulders in an almost reassuring manner. She blinked up at the figure, so much taller than she was he had to bend down to even get close to her head. His odd pumpkin head nearly pressed up against her face then, small opening nearly engulfing her tiny triangle shaped nose. She swore she could see something moving in those eye holes, a circular shape of sorts. Part of her wondered if this was the creature's true body underneath, and apprehension struck her as she pondered asking Jack. Feeling a swell of determination, as she had learned that the spirit wasn't even close to dangerous—far from it, she asked her invasive question carefully, averting her gaze from the odd orb inside the pumpkin.

"I'd very much like to see you, if it's possible. You don't need to hide yourself for my sake. The humans I've been around lately are far more terrifying than anything you could be."

"...If you're quite sure of it, then I shall do so. Please do let me know if it is too much for you. I'd hate to startle you further…"

The pumpkin nodded before she heard it start to make various creaking noises, quickly shuffling away from her with an outstretched claw, carefully extricating itself from the scarecrow body with the utmost care. She watched as his features were slowly illuminated by the moonlight, mouth open in a mix of awe and wonder at what was to emerge. He was a skeleton of some sort, worth long gangly limbs and bones for hands—and a very well dressed one at that!

If she hadn't been enraptured by his voice and mannerisms before then, despite the warning in her head to be careful, she was completely smitten now. He was surreal, leaning toward her in the darkness with the gentlest expression, hauntingly beautiful and she found herself muttering the word before her brain could stop her...


	11. A Desperate Plea Part Two

"Beautiful…"

He heard her whisper quietly, making Jack tilt his skull curiously. He was rattled from her comment, knowing it was quite sincere, able to see the pure adoration in her large eyes. He felt an ache in his chest then, and shakily reached out an arm towards her, bony fingers trembling as they went to move towards her again. He wasn't sure if she would shun the contact, finally able to see him for what he truly was.

He admitted that he felt some sort of lingering affection for the young woman. Throughout this whole meeting she had begun to enchant him, the way she looked at him, how she engaged with his conversations, her polite manner of speech. All of these things and more made a powerful longing rise up in his chest, unlike anything he had felt before. It was certainly different than the usual feelings he had when hanging around people. He simply prayed she couldn't see his flustered skull or the way his hands trembled despite himself. He was nervous to say the least, and if he could sweat he had a feeling it would appear on the top of his skull.

"D-did you…"

He had trouble getting the question out, hand quickly withdrawn to lay simply at his side, throat suddenly feeling dry even though that had never impacted his capacity to speak before then. The young woman seemed similarly troubled, face flashing crimson for a moment as she backed away an inch. He felt his dead heart skip a beat upon seeing her expression; why was she so cute when she was embarrassed?

"Oh dear, y-you heard that!? I…"

She seemed to falter, trembling a bit—though if it was from the cold or nerves he could not exactly tell—before he noticed her hands clench at her sides, wearing a determined posture, her gaze no longer wavering as she stared straight into his sockets. This made him feel as if his marrow was rushing in his bones, the way she pierced his sockets, as if she was trying to see through him.

"...It's true of course! You are so refined, and—dare I repeat...hauntingly b-beautiful. You may seem like a so called 'monster'—please forgive my wording—but you are the most caring and gentlemanly person I have come across this far."

"Ruse or no, I would very much like to become better acquainted with you. You saved me from possibly being eaten from wolves or lost in the forest, after all. Say what you will about your act of watching over me; you haven't done anything to make me mistrustful of you. And your behavior afterwards, tonight included, has been nothing but extraordinarily kind!"

He felt something topple against him just then, barely able to keep from falling over. It took him a few moments before he realized what exactly it was. Emeline had clung to him suddenly, wrapping him in a firm yet gentle hold. One that had him flustered and confused all at once. Part of him wanted to return her feelings, the other was still stymied by her forwardness. Not that it was a bad thing; he found it rather invigorating that she had worked past her shyness to show him how he felt—at least for the moment.

She was cold, her skin prickling with goosebumps as it touched his clothes and hands, making him shake slightly himself. The ground was cold after all, and without the layer of straw he had used to insulate himself he was starting to feel the effects of the chill night air as well. It was the briefest of holds, her arms carefully entwined around his form for a second or two. But he felt as if his entire body was on fire, marrow rushing through his bones. Such pure, unselfish gratitude and affection—he was unsure of what to do. His mind felt as if it was trapped in a haze of sorts, dulling his ability to think clearly. He just tried to savor this moment; the feeling of her holding him so tightly, as if she too did not want to let him go ever.

He felt his knees buckle below him, heard her small gasp of surprise, her hands dropping from where she had lain them to rest now at her sides. His sockets popped open, to see her face not quite at his eye level, looking at him with the utmost concern. Though she was blushing yet again, her skin taking on that rosy color as her cheeks flushed crimson, eyes quickly averting their gaze from his figure as they noticed his sockets meet with hers.

"I don't know—what came over me all of a sudden—I—...I'm sorry!"

He smiled then, the warmth in his bones ignited anew as he beheld her embarrassed face. She certainly was pretty—even for a human, whom he had never really found attractive before. But she was different; with her, he didn't care about what was on the outside—though he was enraptured by her looks—he found himself attracted to the kindness that lay within—her soul so to speak. It burned bright within her despite all the hardships she had faced, and he saw her passion within her art and words.

"Oh no, that was quite alright."

He couldn't stop the next words from tumbling out of his skull then, an extension of his thoughts that he had meant to keep hidden. Maybe she had encouraged him to also be more frank with himself because of her small display.

"I...well, if it isn't too f-forward...I'd like to—hold you—only if you wish! It's cold out, after all and—"

He could barely finish his words before she tentatively wrapped her arms around his tall frame again. A gasp escaped him, unbidden, as he savored her warmth, the feeling of her thin fingers moving across his spine and the back of his ribs to link together in a desperate sort of hold.

"It is indeed cold out tonight...For someone who is supposedly undead, you are surprisingly warm."

He could see the coy smile on her face, prompting him to respond with his own challenge, sockets narrowing as they beheld her sparkling brown eyes. So full of life, unlike what he had seen before when he beheld her countenance—a dull light, filled despair that threatened to swallow her whole. He was glad he could help bring about this change, though for how long it would last he couldn't say.

"O-Oh? And for a human, y-you are quite cold. All the more reason...we s-should…"

"...S-stay like this? Ah—only if you want, of course?"

Hearing her affirmation, Jack simply pulled her in closer to him, delighting at her startled squeal of surprise, as he felt her arms go slack around his skinny frame. He used the moment to his advantage, gently grabbing her arms and putting them in front of her, before turning her around so she was no longer facing him. He could feel her heart pounding in her chest, hear her shortened breaths, and hoped it was from the same excitement and wonder he felt when he was close to her. The skeleton then carefully wrapped his long arms around her, his hands gently resting on the blades of her shoulders to hold her. Of course he made it so if she wished to escape his grasp it was quite simple for her to do so. He still asked, just to be sure.

"How about this?"

"...It's n-nice."

She surprised him again, taking both of her soft hands in his bony ones, gently stroking the bones of his phalanges and palm. Her skin was cold at first, as to be expected from being out so late in this weather, but he found they both warmed up soon enough. He shook at her touch, having wanted some sort of affection for so long and yet unsure of how to go about it. She stared up at him then frowning, before her lips parted to speak.

"What's wrong? Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"Huh? No, you could ne—"

He stopped himself, partially embarrassed at what he almost admitted. He shook his head gently, lowering his skull so that it rest on her shoulder close to her thick curls. He closed his sockets for a moment, trying to think of what to say, as he felt her head tilt towards him.

"I...I've never really...felt this way before. Where I come from, I don't really—that is to say—people treat me differently than they do others. So, I'm not sure what to feel about it…"

"So you are an outcast, as well then?"

Her turn of phrase shocked him. Then again, he wasn't truly being clear with her regarding his status, so how else would she interpret his words? She wasn't exactly wrong however; when it came down to it, despite all the love and adoration the townspeople gave him, Jack was an outsider in the place he called home. No one really understood him or took the time to know him. She was at least trying; and here he was, hiding things from her! Guilt clenched at his ribs, making him shudder once again, a sigh escaping his lips.

"Jack, are you alright?"

"...I—I honestly don't know…"

Again, he felt one of her hands leave his, her body shifting as she turned towards him. Her hand carefully went along the contours of his skull, making him involuntarily lean into her warm caress, and he opened his sockets to see her face staring quite concernedly back at him. Quite closely too; he could almost feel her breath on his skull. If he was alive, this most certainly would have been the part where his heart stopped. As it was, it simply beat faster, feeling as if it wished to escape his rib cage altogether.

"Is there a-anything I...can do to help you?"

How selfless she was! He felt guilt upon hearing her words; he hadn't meant to cause her more problems. Yet here he was, moping when he should have been trying to comfort her, tell her he was there for her. Yet it was she who was doing that for him! Oh, he wasn't sure what to feel at the moment, a torrent of conflicting emotion assaulting him right then and there! Well, at least he could be honest with her, he supposed.

"Yes...Just stay like this with me, please…"

She chuckled then, her gaze tender as she stared into his sockets.

"Of course...I'm honestly glad you said it first. Less embarrassing than having to admit it myself."

He smiled back, wrapping his arm tighter around her in a gentle squeeze of affection.

"Now what shall we do? Simply lay here like this, enjoying each other's company?"

"Hmm...we could…"

He paused, lost in thought for a moment. He was fine with simply laying with her like this, her body wrapped up in his arms, the pair of them enjoying the silence and serenity of the night sky. God knows the poor thing probably needed a break after all she had been through!

"The night sky is beautiful tonight. We can stay here and gaze at the stars."

He suggested turning his skull towards her face. The look Emeline gave him was thoughtful; pensive even, and more than a little disappointed.

"Well...it's not that I dislike the idea, it's simply…"

"Yes? You can speak freely with me, my dear."

He felt her stiffen against him at hearing the term of endearment. Was it wrong of him to say so? Surely she was dear to him, hence his usage of the word. He wanted her to know he at least cared for her, even if she did not love him, romantically or otherwise. He hoped he had not crossed a line, one of his hands gently going to cup her face, moving his skull as close as he could to stare into her eyes.

"Have I upset you, Ms.Emeline? Maybe my show of affection is too forward? I do apologize…"

"No...It's just...Rowland used to also call me those types of things, back when he started courting me. I...I'm not sure what to think…"

"Should I not, then?"

"I...I don't know. It's—when you say it, I feel something...different. There's no underlying trace of mockery or malice...N-not that you ever would—aah, I simply don't know!"

She shouted out the last part, arms and head flailing, wriggling slightly in his grip. Jack waited for her to either push herself off of him or calm down, silently cheering when she did the latter, snuggling herself back into his arms. It was silent for a while, neither of them wanting to say anything to the other, Jack wanting to let the young woman get her thoughts in order first. Her voice was quiet when she resumed speaking, quite unlike her brash tone from a few moments ago.

"I'm sorry to have reacted in such a fashion."

"You're simply confused, is all. I won't do it again unless you ask, then."

"To switch to a better topic...What about our previous discussion?"

She stared at him then, some of her curls brushing against his nasal bone when she moved. He fought the urge to both sneeze and push his face into her hair, enjoying the scent of it.

"About star gazing?"

"Yes. What do you think of it?"

"As nice as it is, I... I can't see the stars."

"You can't see them?"

He felt his chest drop as she nodded sadly, pointing up at the dark night sky with her free hand. He followed her to watch as the stars twinkled about, the moon shining bright and giving everything around them a quaint blue glow. He was going to point out constellations to her, simply enjoy gazing under the night sky they had met under, but if she couldn't make them out then there was no real point. He'd have to find another way of showing her the stars, then. Somehow.

"Yes; I don't notice any pinpricks of light in the night sky. Not to say they aren't there; I simply lack the sight to perceive them. But I do not doubt they are quite beautiful. It's a shame really, the things I miss out on…"

He felt his heart break at her words, feeling genuinely sorry for her. The sky was quite nice out tonight, and he had wanted to share in its beauty with her, someone he cared for. If that wasn't to be, then…Part of him was embarrassed for bringing up the topic in the first place, a frown coming over his skull as he turned to look at her profile.

"I'm truly sorry, Ms.Emeline...I wasn't thinking—-didn't realize the extent of your vision loss. Forgive me for being so insensitive."

She chucked at that, which made him confused, her head slowly turning to regard him. Noticing the frown, her eyes widened in surprise, before he felt one of her hands slide over his own, making his heart race again as the feeling of her soft flesh wrapped around his palm. She looked at him then, without any trace of malice or frustration in her gaze, and he felt the marrow in his bones start to warm again. She looked at him so softly, as if to say she wasn't too concerned about his slip; it only made him feel worse!

"Oh, that's alright. It simply means I have to focus on something else that holds my attention, such as your captivating skull…"

"W-well as—wait, what?"

He hadn't been expecting an answer like that from her. The way she confidently said such a thing caught him off guard, and he stammered over his response. She...thinks...I'm captivating?? The way she could shift from shy to confident in a matter of moments confounded him, and so he simply sat there, mouth partially open. This young woman was certainly something; and to say he wasn't captivated by her was surely a lie. She blinked, as if realizing what she had said, before a tiny gasp escaped her, her face blushing horribly in the pale moonlight.

"O-oh! That wasn't—It slipped out…"

He had a feeling she wasn't the type of person to offer empty compliments or flattery; and the way she had reacted after uttering her statement made his chest tighten anew. She was sincere, of that he had no doubt. It made him shiver, her proximity to him, his own hand moving to pull her closer toward him.

"Ms.E-Emeline…"

They were very close now, her face nearly touching his nasal bone. Noticing something soft on his cheek, Jack focused on her again, to find her arm outstretched, hand gently caressing his cheekbone with an odd tenderness. He could feel her breath on his face, hand still cupping his cheek and making his skull lean downward slightly, and could make out the individual blemishes on her face—not that he thought any less of her for having them.

He supposed his own skull was littered with similar pockmarks and such, no longer the smooth round orb it had been when he was a child. Too many tumbles on gravestones, lack of polishing his skull for want of caring and unfortunate encounters with wary humans had seen to that; as well as age making his features more defined and sunken, all adding to his eerie appearance. Which he usually would be proud of—seeing as haunting humans was a career of his and what he was most known for.

Of course she would have no idea of that; she barely knew anything about him. A situation he wished to correct immediately, though a voice was telling him to keep quiet. He was a king after all, one of the nobles she had such disdain for, and he felt a sharp twinge of fear at imagining her shunning him because of his title. But, Jack knew he couldn't keep it hidden forever, and resolved to tell her after they had become better acquainted. To drop it on her now might not be the best thing. And the timing certainly didn't seem right, with Emeline so wrapped up in his arms, the pair sharing their warmth in a way he could only describe as somewhat intimate.

Indeed her supposed 'imperfections' only made his longing for her all the more poignant in that moment, making him scared. For what reason he did not know.

He simply held her tighter against him, as if that would act as a sort of barrier, reveling in the feeling of her soft hair and skin against him. She was quite warm now, no longer cold from the night chill, and the skeleton was glad of his long limbs, having used them as best he could to shield her from the cold despite their thinness. She looked more beautiful in that moment, than he had ever noticed before.

"You...really meant that?"

"I...My feelings are genuine; I do think you are a great person. But—Well...I've only just met you…"

"And I, you. Yet it feels almost as if we were meant to cross paths, wouldn't you say?"

He watched as her expression shifted once again. This time it was a smile of sorts, her eyes twinkling in the darkness and making his bones tremble.

"Mmm...I am none too fond of relying on the Fates. Their tales usually end in tragedy—and I'd prefer ours have a happy end, if we are to be honest."

He laughed at that, her clear proclamation making his chest rumble. She had an odd sense of humor, and more importantly seemed to know of the Classics, if her reference was anything to go by. This interested the monarch; no one else he knew of seemed to share his appreciation for such things.

"I suppose you are right! I do hope our friendship doesn't turn into a tragic tale of woe!"

He smiled again, laying his hand gently on her shoulder before continuing.

"Ah, maybe we are overthinking things...Still, laying with you here like this is quite nice."

He felt her shuffle beneath him, her hand once again slipping into his, fingers easily curling around his palm. He resisted the urge to sigh contentedly, looking up at the moon in the night sky, enjoying the feeling of simply being with her. Was he truly so touch starved, to react in such a way? He wasn't sure, and tried to push the thought out of his mind by holding onto her a bit tighter. The pair stayed like this for a while, leaning into each other's grip, silently enjoying their time together.

Jack wasn't sure how long they stayed like this. He was only sure he didn't want it to end. Hopefully Emeline felt the same. He felt her neck vibrate as a soft hum left her, her head resting backwards against his shoulder and collarbone. She probably wasn't aware of the noise. It was adorable.

The skeleton felt his chest ache, sockets gently observing the young woman laying so calmly on top of him. She looked so peaceful. He didn't want to disturb her, though he ran a few of his phalanges through her hair, getting tangled in the brown curls. She barely stirred at his touch, that is, until his hand gently began to move downward to caress her cheek. Emeline simply stared at him with half lidded eyes—probably exhausted from lack of sleep, he understood—leaning her face into his hand.

"S-sorry...I'm a little tired."

Her statement was accentuated with a tiny yawn, one she tried to cover up with her hand.

"Don't worry. I don't blame you for falling asleep now. It is cold however, and I'd rather not see you become unwell."

"I...shouldn't...Sadly, I cannot spend anymore time with you tonight."

He felt his heart nearly stop at her words, staring at her with narrowed eyes. She sighed then, pointing up to the large moon in the night sky. He nodded, following her arm and frowning. The moon's path had shifted quite a bit since they had been out. It had almost begun to slip over the horizon once again; as if a sign that their time together was to draw to a close all too soon. Jack sighed, feeling her start to get up from her position on his chest. Almost on an impulse, he grabbed ahold of her wrist. She turned back toward him then, making him feel oddly self-conscious. Why had he done that? His mouth once again felt dry, as he tried to say the words lingering in his heart.

"I...enjoy your companionship…"

He noticed her fidget, gaze turned away from him for a moment. That red color began to spread across her face again, making his undead heart leap. Oh, how adorable she was! He didn't want to leave her. Leave her to her awful fate with her fiancé, where she would be doomed to misery! But what could he do? He pondered these things as he stood up, brushing off the back of his suit and staring at her as she did the same. She was enchanting in the moonlight, and he felt his heart skip a beat once again as he beheld her. She only watched him curiously, before her mouth slowly began to open, words quietly trembling out of it.

"...Yes. I do as well. We should...cut tonight's time short, however."

"...It is quite late. I suppose we must get going in order for you to return home before your parents or anyone else awaken...Though, I'd rather not leave you."

He noticed her stumble slightly when she began to walk a few steps forward, Jack quickly offering her his hand, which she hesitantly held. Again, her face took on that embarrassed shade of red, and she refused to look directly at him. He let out a small laugh, both charmed and perturbed by her inability to accept help. Her hand slipped out of his, almost as if to say she didn't need his help, as she started to walk towards the direction of her house. So enamored the skeleton was with the way she moved under the light, getting a view of her full figure, he barely noticed that something seemed odd about her steps. She was wobbling more than he would think, and favoring her left leg, barely putting any pressure on her right when she pressed down with it. This concerned him, panic fluttering across his chest, a look of plain worry on his skeletal features.

"Don't you feel any pain?"

"Hmm? N-no...What are y-you talking about?"

He wasn't sure if she was trying to mislead him or really did not feel the pain. He pointed to her leg then—before realizing she probably could not see what he was referring to. Jack quickly caught up to her, thanks to his long legs and swift strides, standing in front of her with a concerned expression. He knelt before her, eliciting a gasp of shock from Emeline, before he carefully gestured to her right ankle.

"You look like you're in pain. Do you mind if I check to make sure you're alright?"

"If you insist."

"Does it hurt here?"

He carefully used his fingers to gently wrap around the area where he noticed the issue. It was most certainly her ankle, though it was covered by her stocking and not immediately noticeable in the moonlight. He barely touched the place before Jack felt her leg wince beneath his touch, involuntarily. She didn't make any verbal indication that she felt the pain, only emitting what he could describe as a pained exhale. The fact that she had shuffled her leg away from him was enough of a tell. It was either sprained or broken; the only question was how had it ended up this way? And how had it taken her so long to notice the pain? Either she had a high pain tolerance or the fact that she hadn't needed to put much weight on it until now hadn't made it obvious to her that something was wrong.

His sockets narrowed, the skeleton let out a sigh before looking up at his new companion. Emeline watched him curiously, though he could see the sweat slowly beading on her forehead, through the small curls that covered it. She was clearly in pain, her body finally reaching its breaking point where she could ignore it no longer—though she did not want to let him know, for whatever reason.

Acting quickly, Jack easily scooped her up in his arms, ignoring her flustered squeal and his own undead heart. It felt as if it was going to burst. Could the dead suffer heart attacks? He wasn't sure, but wouldn't be surprised if his heart did give out on him. Barely looking at her, he mumbled a partial apology, voice soft and embarrassed at what he was doing. He understood it was for her own good, as she would never admit to her pain.

"Sorry—but if you walk on it anymore you'll make it quite worse."

"J-Jack, what are—please, put me down! I-I can walk just fin—"

"You're hurt. You must have sprained your ankle somehow. Please stop being so stubborn!"

"But—you...It might not be sprained?"

She weakly protested, her face still flushed as she stared at him.

"Are you really going to argue to a skeleton, of all things, about bones? Hahaha, I'd like to think I know a thing or two about broken bones and sprains. We may not have skin or muscle, but my bones are more or less the same as yours."

"Oh—"

"Trust me; I know a sprain when I see one."

"...Mmmmm…"

She grumbled, turning her face away from his for a moment. It was cute, and slightly aggravating how she refused to give in so easily. She was a fighter—if a tad subdued about it because of her hesitant nature. It made his marrow boil and his bones heat up, watching her fight him like this. Everyone was so quick to please him, to get on his good side. And he always knew when they did; it was plain to see, and it often disappointed him to see them relent so quickly. But Emeline didn't seem to want to give up, which was both refreshing and confusing to the monarch. Now if only she could stand up to her fiancé!

"Why not? We were lying on top of each other simply moments ago…"

"Y-Yes, but—Having you h-hold me like this—I feel guilty—awful!? I—"

"Nonsense! You're hurt and can't walk! Besides...it's not as if this is the...first...time I've..."

He stopped speaking, realizing he was about to give himself away. He was paralyzed with mortification for a moment before he noticed the smile on her face.

"Ah, so you did carry me home!"

Ah, I messed up...Oh, well. Why is she smiling about it? He thought, her reaction confusing him even more. Part of him had expected her to be angry. He sighed, knowing he was trapped and thought it best to tell her.

"Erm...well...of course! I couldn't simply leave you—like that—I mean...What if—something could have happened…to yo—"

"I knew you were a gentleman!"

Jack felt her cling onto him tightly, her arms wrapped around his shoulders and head to his chest. Something soft pressed against his skull then—the area on the underside of his chin, near the corner of his mouth—unlike anything he had felt before. It stayed there for a few moments, pressing into his skull and making him shudder in delight before quickly leaving and taking it's odd warmth with it. He stopped moving, startled at the action, his body trembling as he looked down at the human in his arms. Her head was tilted downwards, so he could not look at her face, her curly locks covering the front of her eyes.

"W-What...did you…"

He heard his voice croak out, trembling and horribly squeaky. He felt as if he was on fire—literally—his bones beginning to become very heated and saw small flames that danced around his vision. He had to close his sockets to focus before the flames spread and began to actually start doing damage; before they hurt the woman he was trying to protect! Letting out a couple deep breaths, trying to calm his frazzled nerves, before he felt the heat leave him then. This woman...He carefully opened his sockets, looking around to see that any trace of his fire had disappeared completely. It was if as it had not even been there. Frowning, he looked at the woman in his arms, narrowing his sockets at her in a mix of mortification and playful anger.

"Y-you just...ki—"

"Don't say it!"

Emeline nearly shouted the words, the forceful tone of her voice shocking him. Raising a socket curiously, he regarded her. She was red; face flushed horribly and eyes darting to and fro as if she didn't want to look at his skull. He smiled; she really was quite adorable. If only she could gain more confidence! He didn't hate what she had done—no, he actually liked it. He was simply too shy to admit that to her. And she seemed to be of a similar mindset if he went by her blushing face and racing heartbeat.

"Are you...embarrassed?"

He teased, a playful smile lighting up his skull. One of his long phalanges came to caress her cheek, trailing a path to her bottom lip. She simply sputtered, arms crossed as she continued to avoid staring at him. Her voice wavered as she spoke; quite the contrast to her outburst from earlier.

"Mmm...I just wanted...to give a small show of affection. Was I…out of line?"

"N-no...No, it was fine. I simply wasn't expecting it, was all."

He stopped walking, realizing where they had finally ended up. The pair had finally reached their destination, the young woman's house. Now the only real problem left was how to get inside. He tried the door leading to the house, and frowned upon finding it locked. Which wasn't totally unreasonable; who knows what brigands would be running about at this time of night.

Still they had to get in, otherwise Emeline would be found out! And if he wanted to see her again—and he had a feeling she did as well going by her words—they needed to be as discreet as possible. He then looked at the window that lead into her room, seeing as it was partially open. It only took him a moment to understand why, blurting out his thoughts before he could stop himself.

"You...leapt from this height!?"

He simply stared at her, then at the window, incredulity written plainly on his skull. It was a long drop—and she so petite—that it must have certainly caused some damage. He thought about their walk back to her home, the odd way she had nearly limped about, before he had had the forethought to hold her. He wanted to ask what possessed her to do such a thing, but decided against it at the moment.

You could have—Well, no—you have hurt yourself from doing such a foolish thing!

"They locked my door...I had no other choice if I wished to leave."

She explains, which only made him shake his head at her foolishness. She had gotten herself hurt, simply to act on a hunch and see him!? He wasn't sure how to feel, his emotions twisting around inside him at the moment. He tried to focus on finding a way inside the building, as that was more important. There was no way for him to climb the wall of the house to the window; not with her in his arms.

He had an idea then, going back to the front door and adjusting his grip on the young woman. He hadn't used it in a long time; he had come up with it when he was a rascally little pile of bones, a troublemaker who liked spooking everyone he could. He was past such juvenile tricks now, having learned from centuries of experience, being a king and gentleman. All he needed to do was get one finger free, and for only a fraction of a second. Finding the keyhole that kept the door locked, the lanky skeleton easily slipped his index finger inside the locking mechanism, feeling around inside for the tumblers and gears that kept it shut. He ignored the slight pain his digit began to give him from being wedged in such a small space, using his dexterous hands to his advantage to fiddle with the lock, smiling when he heard the click of the doorknob release.

"H-how did you….?"

"Where else would the term 'skeleton key' come from? I am quite deft, and this was a simple lock."

He commented, somewhat proudly, before carefully opening the door and slipping the two of them inside. It only took him a few seconds of searching to find her room, the small woman also helping point out the place to him. That door too was locked, which he easily picked as well before going inside. He quickly placed Emeline on her bed, being careful of her sprained ankle so as not to agitate it. He stood before her, avoiding looking at the young woman, slightly embarrassed as to what he was about to ask.

"Would you let me take off your shoe? I'd like to get a better look your ankle…"

"Sure...Go ahead…"

He easily slid the shoe off of her foot, wincing a she gasped despite his delicate maneuvers. It must have hurt more than she let on. Even through the sock he could see something was clearly wrong; the shape was distorted compared to her other ankle, and she flinched whenever his fingers ghosted across it. He looked to her for confirmation once again, receiving a hesitant nod in response, before he carefully began to slide the stocking down her leg, removing it. Her pain tolerance must be quite high...Was the only thought he had upon seeing the discolored flesh, the base of her foot a misshapen lump of red and purple, her twisted foot hanging off the side of the bed almost daintily. He winced at the sight, more for the pain she must be in than any revulsion he felt, which prompted her to quietly ask.

"H-how does it look?"

"Well, it's most certainly sprained! I'm surprised you managed to walk as far as you did. Now don't move from that spot."

"Hmm?"

"I can't simply leave you like this! I was going to go find a way to treat the swelling…"

She grabbed ahold of his wrist then, tugging him closer towards the bed. Jack stared at her, confusion flitting across his skull for a moment before she began to speak.

"Oh, no...don't trouble yourself. I can easily make up a story that will explain the wound."

"We cannot meet all the time, mind you. My parents and fiancé may get suspicious otherwise. We have managed to cover our tracks this time, but what of the next? And as odd as it sounds, I do worry for your sake. If someone were to spot yo—"

He put a thin finger to her lips then, making her eyes go wide before she saw his narrowed sockets. Jack was slightly frustrated at her words. She was still worried for him. For him, and not for her own self, should anyone come upon the two of them! Emeline would be in much worse danger than he, did she even know? Or was the thought of succumbing to her destiny of marrying her fiancé so grave to her that she cared not for her own sake? This struck him as odd, and curiosity compelled him to ask, but he did not. It was late, and the poor thing seemed tired, despite the odd energy she had exhibited while around him.

"Stop talking like that. Don't you understand how important you are!?"

To me? He wanted to add, but his courage gave out. He didn't want to come across as too forward; this was first time they had actually met after all. Though he thought back to only a while ago, when she had placed that small kiss on the underside of skull. It made his bones nearly alight again, his tongue nearly tripping over itself as he continued to speak.

"Y-you...undervalue yourself. I'm not sure if it's because of that despicable man you call your fiancé, but...I don't like seeing you so sad."

"S-Sorry…I simply don't feel very important, is all."

The sad, nearly monotone sound her voice made was devastating to the monarch. Why did she harbor such thoughts? Why was she so...so hard on herself? Couldn't she see the good things about her, like he easily did? He easily took her small hand in both of his, wiggling out of her grip thanks to his impossibly thin wrist.

"This settles it then; I won't leave you to wither away like this! I won't be able to see you all the time, but I will try my hardest to meet with you! For now, simply rest and take it as easy as you can."

"... I...You—How? How will we—oh, wait! This may work. A way for us to plan our rendezvous…"

She gestured to him, towards the desk where she had her study materials tucked away. Grabbing a few pages from her book as she instructed—the ones often displaying the title or author, which left a lot of space to write on—he brought the pages to her. She looked at him with a sly grin, leafing through the papers before handing him a few from the pile.

"These will do, I think. We can simply use these to communicate back and forth."

Jack stared at the leaflets, slightly unsure of her plan. Still, it was better than standing outside her window every night where he might be caught, or her staying up all night and missing sleep—which would surely be seen as suspicious. This way, at least they could plan a meeting time and she could wait for him to appear. The only real caveat he found was how to get the messages to her? He could climb the windowsill, being as lithe and stealthy as he was. No one would probably see him. It's not as if she could sneak out and deliver them as she had been—no, he would not put her in that kind of danger!

He took them, folding them and the writing implement she gave him and storing them in a pocket on the inside of his suit. He smiled at her, reaching for her hand once more and holding it against his chest. He delighted at the shudder he felt as his shirt made contact with her skin, the way her breath wavered in her throat before coming out in a sharp exhale.

"Of course, if there's anything you need—and I do mean anything—please come find me at our spot in the field. I'll notice you and come running!"

"Oh, please be careful Jack!"

"I will, though I hope you will try and follow your own advice. You are much too reckless; yet...I suppose that too is part of your charm."

He teased, bringing himself closer to where she sat on the bed. She only let out a stifled laugh, face flushing slightly in embarrassment. He took her soft hands in his, wanting to feel their odd texture on his hard bones again. His fingers ran through her own, memorizing the bumps and impressions her skin left, where on him there were simply just bones and knuckles.

"Until next we meet, then…"

"Yes."

He felt her arms wrap around him again, in a much tighter hug than before. They seemed to be trying to memorize his form, her hands carefully caressing the small of his back, individual ribs and even the vertebrae of his spinal column. The skeleton also hugged her back, being careful to support her injured ankle, savoring her warmth and the feeling of their bodies pressed together. He knew it would be a while before they would next meet. He wanted to savor the moment. And hoped she did as well.

As fast as it had been, it ended, the pair letting go of each other somewhat forlornly. Neither wanted to leave the other; but understood it was the best thing to do. He could still feel the lingering heat of her body as he quickly left her side, going for the door. It was less conspicuous than the window, and he could close it on his own. Leaving no trace that he had been there. The skeleton turned to his new friend one last time, his adoration for her clear in his gaze, watching her own crestfallen expression brighten rather quickly as she beheld him. It was as if she was trying to hold back tears, her eyes blinking rapidly as she locked eyes with him.

"Well, I suppose this is goodbye…"


	12. LostHope

Emeline awoke to pain in her leg. More specifically her foot, making her remember that last night's events were not a dream. Her heart leaps in her chest as she began to piece together the events. She had made a friend, someone who valued her for who she was and not what she could offer them. At least she hopes so, but whomever she met last night had certainly seemed genuine in their intent to meet with her again.

It outweighed the pain in her ankle, if only for just a moment as she put a hand up to her chest, feeling her heartbeat rapidly speed up as she blinks away tears from her face. She was glad to have finally found someone she could talk to, who would listen to her, and was as kind as they actually appeared, not simply laying on a veneer of falseness to gain her initial trust.

She had met with her odd admirer—if she could deign to call him that, and found that he was everything her fiancé was not. Kind, gentlemanly, generous—there were many words she could use to describe the man she met in the woods last night. If it was possible for her to introduce him to her parents, she would have done so straighway, consequences be damned. It was certainly better than living the lie she currently was. If only she wasn't already engaged to that pompous twat Rowland!

Yet, her new friend seemed to be a spirit, something otherworldly, from what she began to remember of last night. He certainly wasn't human—yet she felt no fear at all when she beheld his true form. Quite the opposite in fact; she was enraptured by his lanky form, rounded head with its stitched smile and empty sockets that seemed to pierce her soul. Stymied by his mannerisms and demeanor, she had found it quite hard to really speak with him.

A fact she regretted, as she wished to know more of him, or tell him more about herself. Well, at least she had tried and there was always next time, provided she could sneak out again. The thought of her parents or suitor catching her in the act made her blood run cold; a shiver running down her spine as she tries her best to slowly get out of bed.

It was hard with her twisted ankle, and she stifles a gasp of pain, lest she alert the house that she had been out last night. For where else would she have inflicted upon herself such an injury? Her room was locked from the outside after all, as part of her punishment for frightening her fiancé and subsequently the whole town with talk of demons and ghouls.

Sadly, she knew there was no way she could be seen in public with her new companion, not after the little witch hunt the village had put her through. Saying she was bringing monsters and demons into the town, no. She would not risk his safety for that; for if they caught him, she was unsure of what they would do to him.

She remembers as much from the meeting the village had, saying that if they found such a creature they would bring it to the church for them to study and exorcise. His endurance is probably much higher than a normal humans, but the thought of him being poked and prodded like some sort of animal—or worse, tortured—just for their pleasure because of his otherworldly nature, makes her heart ache horribly.

No, she would not have it; so their secret meetings would have to do for now, as badly as she wished to continue spending time with him uninterrupted. For after that simple meeting, as well as all the crazy events that led up to it, she found herself undoubtedly enamored with him—even though they had only talked with each other in person once.

She felt guilty about her feelings, and was not quite ready to admit them to her new acquaintance lest she scare him away with her forwardness. She really wanted someone to confide in, a true friend of sorts, yet she didn't want to worry him with her issues. Even if he had said it was alright, the young woman was not keen on pushing her problems onto her new friend. He might find her pathetic, or someone not worth actually spending time with.

Gods, if he left her, she wasn't sure if she could survive the coming days. She had no real friends or support to speak of. Her father had become more irate with her as of late, ever since the incident, and her mother had been more quiet and soft spoken than usual. Emeline would certainly journey into the woods again, yes—but then with a much crueler intent for herself than before. She only let out a sigh, shaking her head to clear herself of these thoughts, and the last remnants of sleep. She had better get ready for the coming day now; but first to leave her room and see if her parents were still incensed with her.

"Mother? Father? Are you awake?"

She asks toward her door, hoping they could hear her. She waits for a few moments, then walks toward the only other way she could leave. Putting her hand around the knob, she twists it to find it was unlocked. Emeline isn't too surprised; they often left it unlocked for her to go to the bathroom in the morning and breakfast, leading her back to her room afterwards and locking it. She steps through to the hallway, coming upon the stairwell that separated the floors of their home. Before an idea came to her.

Right. If she could just angle it correctly, then it would look as if she sprained her ankle during the fall. She cautiously takes a couple steps down the stairs, before purposefully misjudging one, letting out a small cry of half-feigned shock before tumbling down the stairs. It was a rough fall, the steps being wooden and all, her body aching as it slammed against the steps quite harshly. She does her best to look pained—not exactly hard, considering she is in agony at the moment. The fall had made her already sprained ankle throb and ache in discomfort, a gasp of pain escaping her lips.

"Hm? Oh, Emeline, have you fallen yet again down the stairs? We've told you to be careful for the upteenth time now!"

She hears one of her parents say—probably her father, she reasons by the tone and gruffness of the voice—feeling a tingle of dread reel up her spine. She wasn't sure if they would accept that she broke her ankle by tripping down the stairs. No matter what her father certainly would be angry with her for the state of her ankle. Not to say they were poor, but he certainly didn't make enough to send her to the doctor for a simple sprain. The most she could expect was for it to be straightened and bound. She simply sat up as gingerly as she was able, her round squinted eyes watching as her parents came into the hallway leading to the staircase.

"I-I'm sorry...I s-simply missed a step and—then everything tumbled out from underneath me."

"Mmmm...Well, we will have to go have that checked out. You can't show up looking like that!"

"Hmm? What are you talking about?"

She asks, though the growing pit deep in her stomach already knows what her father is going to say. Her father stares at her, a grimace in his feature as his eyes scan over her twisted ankle.

"To go see Lord Rowland, of course! Ever since that incident, I feel that the two of you aren't as close as you were before. And it has been a fortnight since you have last seen him. So we shall go out toward his manor, and perhaps the two of you spend some time together."

His tone was firm, brooking no argument. But the dread that settled in her stomach bade her to at least try and make an excuse.

"I see...But d-do you think he will be home? What if he isn't there when we come to c-call on him?"

"Oh, my dear child, we already sent him notice a few days ago. In fact, he sent notice of a carriage for us to leave today."

She winces at hearing the news, the dread and anxiety swirling inside her only growing.

"Huh? Why wasn't I told of this?"

"...Are you certain we had not discussed this already? We were going to see your fiancé for a while at his estate. I thought I had told you yesterday?"

She tilts her head pensively as she brought a hand to her chin. She doesn't really remember if her father had told her anything; it was possible he had mentioned it.

"Well, it's much too late to object. We are leaving sometime this afternoon, when the coach arrives to get us. Please go eat your breakfast and we will see to that sprain. Then we can get packed and ready."

The young woman nods, head hanging downwards as to not show the pure dismay in her features. Her father was right; it was much too late to do anything, so she should do as he said. She does her best to eat and walk with the ankle, trying not to put too much weight on it. It still hurts quite a bit though, and she retreats to her room in order to grab her walking cane. Using that as a crutch of sorts makes it more bearable.

She also scribbles out a short letter to her friend, hooking it into the windowsill so he will know to look for it if he comes to meet her again. She wasn't sure what would happen at her fiancés estate, nor how long they would be staying and she did not wish to worry her new acquaintance. She hopes the spirit wouldn't too cross with her; it's not as if she wanted to leave! After doing that, she quickly goes back to her father to see the town healer, seeing as it was the closest thing the small village had to an actual doctor.

The old woman who administered her treatment had kind eyes and a knowing gaze. It only took a few minutes for her to rub the afflicted area with herbs and then wrap in a cloth bandage of sorts, giving the pair extra plants to use if the pain came back. Emeline didn't need to say much for the elder to understand the distraught look on her face that she tried her best to hide from her prying father; before the incident she had gone to the woman for herbs for cooking and knowledge of things she'd rather not discuss with her parents.

The old lady was a trustworthy sort, or at least she seemed to be from what Emeline knew of her from spending time with the old woman. She had helped her mother when she was pregnant with Emeline after all. And they had often talked over tea, the old woman sharing her knowledge despite her family's protests of Emeline not needing to know of such things. Thanking the woman for her help, her father leads her back to the house and tells her to pack for her trip. She doesn't pack much aside from essentials; her drawing materials were locked up and she didn't want both her parents and fiancé to yell at her for 'wasting her time' as they would admonish her.

Leaving the house, with bags of her things in tow, she feels apprehension as she eyes the conspicuous carriage they would take her to her suitor's estate. She finds herself piled onto the carriage, her parents also seated across from her. She does her best to lay her wrapped and bound ankle on the seat, keeping it elevated as to help the healing process. Unable to do much else, Emeline stares out the window and watches the scenery. Just maybe she could get some inspiration for her art. Sadly it was impossible; the speed of the carriage combined with her poor sight making everything rush by in a blur of color.

Unable to do even that, her mind wanders to her new companion and how he might be faring. She hopes that her letter might come to him without incident. He was quite clever, it would probably take him no time at all to spot it. But she is worried about his reaction; he did seem to care for her more than he should, at least for someone who she only met a scant day ago. Yet it felt as if they were old friends, going by the ease at which she spoke to him and enjoyed his company. It made her heart lift every time she imagined his deep, comforting voice or slender, gentle hands clasped against her own...

Much too quickly for her liking, they arrive at her bethrothed's estate. It was a large house, tall and foreboding, made of stone, comprised of what she assumed were multiple floors and had harsh metal fences to keep intruders out. It made their house look like a straw hut in comparison. She could only stare in a mixture of awe and fear as they walk up to the large gate that surrounded the manor. A well dressed man greets them at the gate, his eyes worn and tired looking as he ushers them through the gate, across the well groomed gardens and inside the large house.

"Our lord has been expecting you. Please, let us take your belongings and show you to your rooms."

It only takes them a few steps before they come upon a set of stairs that branch off in the middle and lead to hallways with numerous doors. At the end of the right corridor was a door much more fancier looking than the others, which the butler announced was her fiancés room. Her room, Emeline quickly leaned, was only a few doors down from her fiancés; whereas her parents were placed in the opposite wing of the estate. It made her blanch, heart beating steadily against her chest as she knew he had most certainly done it on purpose and why. After setting their luggage down, barely giving them time to examine the foyer, the help quickly escorts them all to see her fiancé.

He looks at her as lasciviously as he always did, and it makes her skin shiver. He was such a uncouth man, staring at her so harshly she thought he was undressing her with his eyes. Nothing like her secret admirer, who treated her as if she was a precious gem and actually listened to her protests. How she wished she could run into his arms right now, and leave this place!

But it was simply impossible; she had to do as her parents told her. And if that meant spending a fortnight here, with this disgusting man, she had no real choice but to comply. She hopes that he doesn't try anything while she is here, but part of her knows him too well for that. He believes he owns her; the ring on her left finger seemingly proof enough for him already.

Of course he was too much of a coward to try anything too untoward while her parents were in the vicinity. So she suffers his presence, the four of them talking about pleasantries, how the trip was—all hollow sentiments really when asked by this man. He doesn't actually care; it's all an act to get her parents off guard, and unfortunately it works, the pair of them soon excusing themselves to give the 'pair of lovers' company. It isn't long before he finds his place at her side, his arm gripping her waist a little too tightly, his body pressed up much too close for her comfort, as he walks her away under the pretense of wanting to take her out to his garden.

Which Emeline finds at least that part is genuine, as he does take her to a place where the shrubbery and flowers are abundant, though their colors have started to fade to orange, red and yellow hues. They walk for a while, the young woman glad for the silence as she takes in her own thoughts. Though she soon finds him too close for comfort, his hand gripping her wrist tightly as she feels him pull her against him harshly.

She nearly crashes into his broad chest, before his hand pulls at her chin to tilt her head upwards. Fear strikes through her at this moment; she understands what he wants explicitly, thanks to her perusal of romance novels. Panicking, she brings a free hand to her face, covering his lips as soon as his chapped lips attempt to meet hers. He backs away at the feeling of her hand against his lips, the expression on his face one of pure anger and incredulity.

"W-what is this!?"

"..."

She is silent, having acted rashly to keep this man from claiming her first kiss. As that is what the act would have been, had she allowed it to continue. And she did not want this man, this horrible man, to be her first anything. Her head lowered, she doesn't notice the odd look Rowland gives her, his brows scrunched in contemplation before he shouts at her.

"Why did you stop me?"

"I...it's too soon…"

"No, it is not! We have been engaged for months now, and have met several times already. We are quite acquainted with each other by now!"

"I don't…"

Her voice fades, not wanting to speak aloud her true thoughts. I don't want to kiss you. Or marry you. Ever. He seems to sense something in her hesitation, wildly flinging an accusation into the air.

"Do you pine for the affections of another?"

"O-of course not, Rowland!"

"Then why will you not let me kiss you!?"

She flinched a bit at his loud and forceful tone. It wasn't that she cared that she was lying to him; she had never been good with loud noises or people quick to anger. It always frazzled her nerves and made her stomach become queasy.

This was no exception.

He didn't seem to sense her unease, or if he did the man certainly didn't care one whit, going on with his accusatory tone while pacing around her. She takes a deep breath, gathering her courage as she tries her best to stand tall in front of the man who had caused her so much anguish recently.

"I...it's too early for us to be so intimate. We don't know each other well enough..."

"Is that so…?"

He grabs harshly onto her wrist then, pulling her closer to him. Emeline is shaken, unable to break free of his grip because of his strength. For though he didn't look like much, he was certainly stronger than her petite full figure. She cries out, worried that he would hurt her, as he has certainly shown the capacity to do so before.

"Stop! You're frightening me! I'm not an object for your amusement!"

"Hmph! Where did this defiance come from so suddenly? You do know that you are mine, the ring having been on your finger for months now proving it! I won't take my new wife treating me as such!"

"I shall let you know now. If you do harbor feelings for someone else, I will find out and I will find them. They will feel my wrath a hundred fold; and you as well, for daring to consort with another! Why the thought would even cross your mind is beyond me; I am much better than any other lout you may come across in this drab hamlet. Then again, women are such fickle creatures, always chasing after whatever tickles their foolish fancy."

She shook in his grasp, knowing that he would most likely make good on his threat. His hold on her lessens somewhat, and she shakes a little as she feels his large and rough hand curl around her fingers. So unlike the delicate and careful touch of her otherwordly friend. Rowland then tugs her harshly, forcing her to follow him as he leads her back into his abode, giving her a look that told her if she was to protest he would make her pay. So that was his plan; to make them look like a happy couple for her parents. What an absolute cad!

The rest of the day passed rather uneventfully, aside from dinner. Where she had to endure him giving her looks as if to say 'play along' and his constant petting of her thighs under the table. His compliments to her were backhanded, as they always were, making her shake in her seat and blink away tears, lest she give her discomfort away. She was barely able to keep dinner down, her parents too enamored by the quality of the meal, much more lavish than anything they ever had to dine on before, and the pairs seemingly lovestruck 'affections' for one another making them not notice her inner turmoil.

She lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling of the unfamiliar room. The young woman did her best to try and contain her tears, despair coursing through her at knowing she would be here for a whole week at best. Already she was having such a wretched experience—and it was only the first day! So she sobs, quietly into her pillow, lest anyone hear her, hoping that eventually her tears give way to the onset of sleep.


End file.
